A Test of Courage
by Lady Willamina
Summary: Historical AU. Set during the latter stages of WW2, Merlin and his mum live in a small occupied Netherlands village. Arthur is an English airmen, shot down over the surrounding forest. Merlin needs to begin to trust himself and reveal all he truly is if Arthur is to be saved. NO SLASH. Some swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**SUMMARY: Merlin is a 19 year old youth, living in a village in the Netherland countryside near the end of World War 2. The village has been occupied by the Germans for some time. Arthur is an English Airman whose aircraft has been shot down over the forest neighbouring Merlin's village.**

**A/N: This story was inspired by the Dutch movie 'Winter in Wartime' and by the video of the David Guetta/Sia track, 'Titanium' ( you know, the one where the little buck toothed kid is running away from a group of soldiers with riffles after committing some sort of weird deed at his school). 'Winter in Wartime' was made in 2008 and is well worth watching. The part of the English airmen is, coincidently, played by the actor who plays King Arthur in 'Camelot'.  
it is not a reincarnation fic.  
**

**I am not very learned regarding WW2 history, so please forgive errors. I am trying to entertain not educate so I hope you will excuse any gross stuff ups. **

**Disclaimer: IDOM. Also, I do not mean to offend any readers of German heritage by portraying the German's in the fic as rather nasty. Finally, I have no personal experience with epilepsy so please tell me if I'm sprouting garbage.**

* * *

Merlin rubbed his gloved hands together briskly, trying to generate some heat into his throbbing, almost blue digits. The journey to the general store took only about 10 minutes of hard riding on his rusty old bicycle, but the freezing winter air rushing past his hands as he cycled along the exposed pathway on top of the dike, always ended in this discomfort; his nose reddening, his fingers painfully cold and his lungs wheezing for air.

As he queued in the store with his ration coupons in hand, Merlin regarded the miserable array of foodstuffs on offer. Together with his mother's coupons, he would be able to buy a little milk, a small loaf of bread and a few potatoes. The war had stretched on for far longer than anyone had initially anticipated, and the resulting loss of arable farmland as the German's spread themselves across more and more of Europe was making things tough.

Merlin silently blessed his mother for her ingenuity and foresight in turning the back yard into a vegetable garden and in getting chickens and a chicken coup, over 3 years ago. They were better off than a lot of folks, the hens provided more than enough eggs and the garden, especially in the warmer months, produced plenty of green and root vegetables.

Stowing his purchases safely in the panniers of his bike, Merlin spotted Will across the street and called out a greeting, before continuing home.

Will was a little younger than Merlin; not 18 for another six months. Like many of the other young men in his village, Merlin was sure he'd run away from the occupied Netherlands to join the fight against the Nazi's as soon as he could. It was either that or be 'coerced' into the German army and Will was too feisty for that.

Merlin himself was not wanted by the German's, his illness rendering him, at the least unreliable and at the worst, a liability. It was for the same reasons that he couldn't help the underground fight against the invaders. He'd never been approached, but the thought of his weakness putting lives at risk made him feel physically ill with self loathing.

At times Merlin thought the horrible fits that overtook his mind and body with very little, if any warning, reducing him to a convulsive, trembling mess, meant he was pretty much useless for anything. His mother did her best to treat him normally even though most of the villagers looked at him with a mixture of fear and disgust. She would not let him learn to drive a car though and no matter what she said or how much Merlin did to help around the house, he always felt like a burden and a freak.

It wasn't just the epilepsy either. It was the weird stuff that happened when he was fitting that really scared people away and led them to believe he was cursed. Once, at junior school, he'd had a seizure and woken to find that every single book in the place had fallen from its bookshelf. Another time he'd been at the general store with his mother, when he felt the dizzy, swirling sensation that preceded a fit, only to come around to find the place in chaos. The usually bare shelves were full to overflowing and the villagers were making the most of it. Just last week he'd been in the backyard, next to, thankfully not inside, the chook yard when his illness overtook him. The hens were still laying double yokers today. Hunith did all she could to convince he son that the occurrences could be explained with science or by coincidence, but Merlin knew deep down that it was him. He was a freak and there was no point pretending otherwise.

One of the few people who accepted Merlin and welcomed his company was his neighbour Will. He worked as a mechanic at the local garage and in recent times, much to his disgust, frequently found himself called upon to help repair the vehicles of the Nazi war machine. He'd let Merlin drive a German motor bike once; the two of them screaming along side by side along the rough road through the surrounding forests had been unforgettable. Never had he felt so free, like he could go anywhere and take on the world.

"I'm home mum," Merlin called, slamming the door behind him. "There wasn't much choice but I..." He stopped abruptly as he rounded the door into the kitchen and saw his mother crying softly as she read from a letter open on the table before her.

"Mum, what's happened? Mum?" he spoke softly, putting a hand on his mother's shoulder. Hunith reached around and grasped his hands in her own.

"Oh Merlin, when will it end. All this pointless killing what is it achieving?" her tear stained face looked up at him. Wiping her face with hanky clutched in her left hand, she continued. "It's your Uncle Gaius. He's missing."

"Oh." Merlin sat down heavily next to his mother. Gaius had lived with Hunith and Merlin before the war broke out. He'd been involved in World War 1 and could not bear to stand by and let his country be taken over again after all his generation had sacrificed. To Merlin and Hunith's horror, he had decided the best way he could fight back was by offering his skills to the resistance movement. Gaius was a trained physician and had spent the best part of a decade working for the diplomatic services, so felt he could make a real difference. Since war broke out he'd visited them several times but once the village was occupied he'd been unable to come as it was too dangerous.

"I don't know why he couldn't stay home and leave it to the younger generation. He did his duty in the last war." Hunith lamented.

"I know Mum, but he's not like that is he?" Merlin held onto his mother, offering comfort. Trying to sound strong even though inside his stomach was churning with self disgust. Here he was, sitting in a warm house with his mother when everyone else between the age of 18 and 45 was off fighting or training or nursing or doing something to be a part of the war effort.

He hated his accursed illness.

Later that evening, under the cover of darkness Merlin went next door to Will's place. Will lived with his father and had an older brother in the Dutch army. His father had been gassed in World War 1 so had weak lungs and watery eyes. Will's mother had died some 12 years ago so he and his dad were, for the moment, alone.

Merlin rattled the back door, the same way he'd signalled his arrival since he was 9 and Will was 7.

"Door's open Merlin!" he heard shouted down the hall toward him.

"Hi Will, Mr Dempsie." Merlin greeted them. "Mum's sent over some eggs," he said placing four eggs on the kitchen bench.

"Lovely. She's a gem your ma Merlin." Mr Dempsie answered, seeming to perk up a little from his spot by the fireplace where he sat all day and most of the night.

"Yeah, thanks Merlin. Dad, we're going out for a bit, keep warm okay?" Will pulled on his coat and gestured for Merlin to follow him.

"God, it's cold. This Winter is going on forever," Will muttered under his breath, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and closing and locking the door behind himself.

"We could go back inside?" Merlin replied, teeth beginning to chatter.

"No, I need to talk to you about something Merlin, and I don't need any little ears waggling." Will replied quietly, indicating back to the houses with a slight head movement.

"Right, I'll just go and get my hat and mittens them, if we're staying out." Merlin shouted to his friend as he raced over to his house. Returning a few minutes later, he pulled a dark blue and orange striped woollen hat low over his ears and stuffed his hands into the thick wool mittens his mum had knitted for him just last month. (She'd had to unpull an old jumper of Merlin's to provide the wool as there was none available in the shops.)Together, they set off into the forest where they could be assured of privacy.

After they'd walked perhaps a half kilometre, Will broke the stillness and silence that descended around them as they left the gentle lights emanating from the village.

"I heard about your Uncle," Will said, his voice producing puffs of white cloud in the freezing air as he spoke which floated for a few seconds before dissolving and vanishing.

"How? Where did you hear?" Merlin looked at his friend sharply. Hunith had only just got notification herself.

Will gazed around at the clear night time sky, hundreds and hundreds of stars glittering and sparkling above them, the moon almost full. They were walking along a narrow track, surrounded by snow covered fir trees in every direction.

Will peered intently at Merlin. "There's stuff going on. Stuff that I can't tell you about, but I hear things okay?"

Merlin had never heard Will say so outright but he knew Will was involved in the Resistance. Things had happened; bases being attacked, prisoners freed, stockpiles of German army food stolen and distributed to the villagers and goodness knows what else. Every time Will had been oddly missing for a day or so, when he showed up again he was always enigmatically non communicative.

Merlin had seen Will meeting people in secret too, people who were rumoured to be part of the Resistance. He'd never meant to spy on his friend or anything, but sometimes he seemed to be able to go unnoticed, mostly due to his status as the village weirdo, which enabled him to observe things he wasn't meant to. Once he'd seen Will receiving a note from the two men who ran the pub, Gwaine and Leon. A few days later Gwaine had been arrested for treason, and never heard of again.

Merlin understood the implications of Will being discovered and had no intention of making things worse for him but he needed to know about his Uncle.

"What have you heard Will? Is he...is he dead?"

"No, I mean, I don't know for sure but he lost contact somewhere in Paris. Please don't say anything to your mum Merlin. If it gets out whom you heard it from..."

"Okay." Merlin nodded solemnly.

"Just don't give up hope. He may have had to go into hiding or change identities or something. It doesn't have to mean he's dead Merlin."

The two boys were quiet in their own thoughts for a few minutes, only the sounds of the forest breaking the silence.

A low rumble in the distance grew louder and louder before the tank responsible for the noise came into view. It's bulky metal shape crushing any small trees and shrubs in its path. A couple of soldiers walked ahead of it, torches shining brightly to light the way, guns at the ready. The two boys instinctively jumped behind a thick copse of trees long before the tank and its accompaniment came into view. German voices shouting to each other enhanced the noise of the procession. One of the foot soldiers took a shot into the forest and Merlin heard the word 'Kaninchen', rabbit in German.

"Let's get out of here." Merlin wanted to run, the sheer power and size of the tank terrifying him. Not to mention the pot-shots the soldiers were taking.

"It's just a patrol Merlin, stay calm. They'll be gone in a minute." Will put a gloved hand onto Merlin's arm to steady him. He watched the parade closely, eager to absorb any little bit of information he could obtain that may be useful.

Half an hour later the boys made their way home again, chatting as they walked.

"I've got something on tomorrow afternoon Merlin, could you stop by and make sure my father gets some dinner?"

"Yeah, sure." Merlin answered, longing to ask what was going on but knowing the less he knew the better. "He'll be fine Will; I'll make him some scrambled eggs or something." Merlin smiled back, the trust being placed in him making him feel the warmest he'd felt for weeks.

"Thanks."

* * *

**A\N; I know, where's Arthur? He'll turn up soon I promise!  
Please review. I'd love to know if it was interesting and if I managed to convey the cold, bleakness that the people of Europe must have been experiencing at this time. Not to mention an alienated Merlin.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is a short chapter I know, but it seems the proper place to stop. (You'll realise what I mean when you read it.) Hope you enjoy.

Merlin's little upstairs room was a cosy retreat from the cold and brutal world outside. Even before the depravities of war had invaded their little part of Holland, Merlin had escaped from the stares and hostility into his own safe, cocoon as often as he could. The short days of winter meant he spent even more hours than usual at his drawing desk, putting all his inner most thoughts onto paper. Drawing and painting had been his passion since he was a child and even though war had halted the availability of painting supplies, he could still sketch.

Over the past few weeks, for reasons he could not explain, he'd been drawing dragons. Some savage killers; breathing their deadly flames over people huddled below while others had riders on their backs and were clearly working to help humanity. All of them were majestic, powerful and coldly beautiful and all possessed the knowledge of the ages, glinting brightly in their enormous black eyes.

At the moment, Merlin found himself working on a picture of a small, white dragon; clearly a youngster. It looked cute and vulnerable now but somehow still held the promise of vast power and energy it would one day hold.

It was long past midnight when Merlin finally put his pencil down, his concentration broken by the noise of a motor bike pulling up outside his house. Carefully extinguishing the light before pulling the curtain open, Merlin looked out to see Will drag himself off the bike, and then stumble before steadying himself on the dilapidated fence between their houses. Resisting the urge to run outside and help, Merlin watched from the darkness as his neighbour pushed the bike into his garage, slamming the door down behind it.

The next day Merlin set out into the forest to set traps. Strapping the hideous devices to his bicycle he set off up the dirt track which was cleared of snow by the Germans each morning so they could move around freely.

Merlin supplemented his household income by selling or bartering the rabbits and anything else he managed to catch. Meat was scarce so fetched a high price and although he hated killing, it made him feel useful to provide for his mother in any small way he could.

As he got deeper and deeper into the forest he was surrounded by mainly white; the snow stubbornly adorning the fir trees and covering the ground. It was oddly peaceful out here and he could all but pretend there was no war, no Nazi's, no Resistance and everything was okay. Setting the last trap up in a spot where he'd had success before, Merlin trudged back through the snow to his bicycle. He'd be back after dark or next morning to see what he'd caught.

Merlin set of towards the village along his usual route after gathering his bike out of the branches he'd rested it in. About halfway between his house and the centre of the village, was a short stretch of road that was surrounded on both sides by water. On Merlin's right was the cold, grey, roiling sea, being held back by the wide, raised area of land known as a dike; common throughout his low lying country. On the left was an area of scant forest that used to be farmland. A lake sitting within this land reached toward the dike and bordered it for around 50- 60 metres. In the depths of winter, it was frozen over and some of the village children liked to skate on its smooth, glossy surface while a few older people broke holes through the ice and fished.

Merlin was not unduly worried as he saw the gathering of people at the frozen lake ahead of him, as it was often a gathering place of sorts. It wasn't until he was much closer that he heard the screaming and saw the surrounding people gather into a concerned group and stare out into the lake. His stomach dropped in horror as he realized what had happened; someone had gone through the ice!

Dropping his bike again, Merlin moved to where he could get a better look at what was going on. A man was laid out horizontally, reaching out a thick branch toward a large cracked area.

"The poor child will never get out. He won't have enough strength to grab the pole." A woman muttered to his left.

As Merlin looked on in shock a small, bedraggled, mittened hand broke through the freezing water and flailed pathetically before vanishing again.

"No! Come on Paulus, please!" the desperate cry of the man on the ice rang out.

Merlin felt something then. Not just the nauseating dread and helplessness that watching a child die in front of him would produce, but a strange tingling in his veins that built and built until it was completely flooding his entire body with its power. As it became so strong his head felt like it was going to burst, Merlin fell to his knees, still managing to keep his eyes on the tragedy playing out before him. He's not entirely sure what happened next but as he clutched his head and clenched his teeth to stop himself from crying out, the child somehow rose inexorably from the icy clutches and seemed to hang momentarily before its relieved father grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him back to solid land.

Nobody was looking Merlin's way, fortunately, as all their attention was on the father and the weakly coughing child. If they had looked his way though, they would've seen his eyes return from a glowing, pulsating gold back to their normal deep, intense blue. Relief and exhaustion then took over and he dropped his head to the ground, breathing heavily.

Through the haze of confusion Merlin could still feel a small warming tingle, deep in his belly and though he vehemently tried to deny it to himself, he knew that it was him who had saved that child; his power or magic or whatever the hell it was, that had lifted the near lifeless boy from the cold hand of death and allowed him to go on living.

A/N; So he's not the useless, helpless thing he thought he was! Go Merlin!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N; I meant to have this up a few days ago but had a few **_**technical difficulties**_**.**

After the '_magic_' incident, a dazed Merlin made his way home, forgetting completely that he was supposed to go into the village to post a letter for his mother. His mind spun giddily with the concept that he, a pathetic loser who couldn't even be trusted to run farm machinery, was in fact the barer of considerable power. True enough, he had no idea where it came from or how he'd summoned it, but his strong will to stop the child from suffering had somehow been enough to direct his '_magic_' in a way that he wanted.

There was no way he could tell anybody what had happened though; they'd think he was crazy. His Uncle Gaius was the only one he might have considered telling and Merlin found himself missing the old man more deeply than he had for quite some time. He always knew what to say to make Merlin feel better about himself, and his ability to put things into their proper perspective was just what he needed at that moment.

Pushing his bike into the shed (he'd been too addled to maintain enough balance to ride, so had to wheel it back) Merlin had the sudden thought that maybe it had all been a hallucination induced by the sickness in his brain. The weakness dragging at his bones like lead and the incessant thrumming in his skull did indeed feel a lot like the after effects of a seizure.

"Merlin, what happened?" Hunith knew something was wrong as soon as she took one look at her son's pale face and defeated posture.

"Nothing mum, I just need to lie down for a minute," Merlin shook his head, avoiding his mother's gaze.

"It was another one of your turns wasn't it? Come here." She approached him with her arms held out.  
Grasping his thin body closely, she rubbed his back and murmured motherly comforts.

"There's no need to be embarrassed son. It's okay. Come and sit down."

Ushering him onto the sofa Hunith noted her son's sodden knees and elbows and took it as further proof of a seizure.  
"Are you alright Merlin? Perhaps we should try and get some of that medication for you, the one Gaius spoke of last time he was here."

"No mum, I don't like the medication," Merlin glanced at his mother's worried face feeling guilt that he was so much of a worry for her. "It makes me feel completely out of it, you know that."

"Merlin, we agreed you could stop taking it only if you didn't fit too frequently." Hunith was holding his face steady so he had to meet her eyes. "You could really get hurt Merlin! What if you were riding!"

"Mum, calm down. I'm okay, please calm down. There's no way we could get any drugs at the moment anyway."

"If we could convince them at the hospital that your life was at risk, they'd have to do something."

"No mum, I said no!" Merlin shook his head at her pleadingly.

Hunith took a deep breath realizing she was putting even more pressure on her son.

"Oh Merlin," she continued, her voice much quieter and calmer than before, "You shouldn't feel ashamed. I know the people around here make you feel like some sort of outcast, but it's just a disease; like tonsillitis or indigestion. It's just that it's inside your brain not in your arm or tummy."

Usually Merlin loved his mother for saying these sorts of reassuring things, but right now he just felt guilty for concealing the truth from her. She didn't deserve to have a son who was such a burden, Merlin's sub conscious screamed at him cruelly.

Retreating away from everyone to the solace of his bedroom and drawing desk was his usual response when he felt this way. It was bad enough that his affliction meant he was incapable of normal employment but if he really did have some sort of magical power, how could he ever hope to find a place in the world where he fitted in?

"It'll be okay mum. I think I just need to lie down for awhile," Merlin gently pulled away and smiling widely in a way that he hoped looked vaguely real to his mother, fled upstairs. He needed to be alone to make sense of what happened at the frozen lake and to sort out his emotions.

* * *

Merlin awoke several hours later to find it was dark outside. He had only meant to shut his eyes for a quick nap but obviously his body decided otherwise. He opened his bedroom door to find the rest of the house was in darkness; his mother must have gone to bed some while ago.

Headlights flaring across the width of his window drew his attention to outside again. He peered out to see Will on his motorbike, returning home after another late night mission. Merlin kind of envied his friend these secretive escapades; his own life was so dull and helpless by contrast. He wondered what it would feel like to actually fight back, to make a difference in this interminable war that had taken over all their lives.

Suddenly restless, Merlin quietly made his way downstairs and donned his thickest coat, hat and mittens. Wrapping his scarf around his neck tightly, he pulled open the back door and whistled a short, shrill note to alert Will he was coming over.

"Merlin, why are you still awake?" Will asked distractedly.

"I um, had a bad day." Merlin answered, refraining from eye contact and shuffling his feet.

"Oh." Will inferred from his friend's body language that he'd suffered another fit. He also knew his friend wouldn't want sympathy if that was the case, just to be treated like usual.

"I'm just going into the forest to check my rabbit traps. Fancy coming along or are you too tired?" Merlin asked hopefully.

Will hesitated fractionally before answering, "I'm still too wound up to sleep. Let's go." He smiled back.

Ten minutes later they were cycling down the track, side by side, just like when they were kids. The sky was clear, only a few clouds marring the star filled vista above them. It was quite beautiful to look at but meant the air was absolutely frigid.

"Bloody hell it's freezing!" Will shouted between chattering teeth.

"Can't feel my toes anymore," Merlin shouted back, finding himself smiling insanely. As stupid as it was to be out in the cold and dark, cycling along an icy dirt track, he felt better than he had for ages. Maybe it was because they could leave all their troubles behind for a while or maybe it was because Will was still here; still his friend even though he knew all the awful stuff about him. The camaraderie between them helped keep the extreme cold at bay.

Soon they were hollering and screaming wildly, both venting their emotions in this moment of freedom from the pressures of real life.

Crawling through the deep snow a bit later to check the second of his five animal traps, the inner warmth had worn off and Merlin shivered violently at the wetness seeping in through his old, worn out clothes.

Will waited on the path, figuring there was no point getting any colder than he already was.

"This better be worth it Merlin," he called out.

Merlin stuck his head up from where he was bent down beneath a snow topped fir tree.

"I'm going as fast as I can! Try stalking through 50cm deep of snow if you think it's bad over there!" he replied, muttering more under his breath than out loud. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all.

"Do you hear that Merlin?" Will called out again as Merlin slowly made his way back over to him.

Merlin halted, ears straining. He could hear a humming sort of noise, but couldn't work out where it was coming from.  
"It's not another tank patrol is it?" he asked, although the sound wasn't as deep or throbbing as it had been the other night. They both new the tanks patrolled the forets regularly but never failed to be intimidated each time they came face to face with one of the huge, deadly vehicles.

"No, I think it's…" Will stopped to listen as the sound grew louder and louder until the air almost started to shake. "They're aircraft, but flying far too low. Doesn't sound like any German engine either." Will concluded confidently, his gaze drawn skywards.

It wasn't unusual for fighter squadrons to fly over their village on their way to or from a mission. As the Netherlands sat under the flight path between England and Germany, both sides used the airspace but they were usually at much higher altitude. These planes must be much closer in proximity to be causing such a racket at ground level.

The Germans had Flak guns (anti air craft guns) set up to the north of their village, next to the army base. The latest type of Flak could reach aircraft as high as 25,00 feet altitude and even though they only had the older, less powerful Flaks, any aircraft flying as low as these surely were, would be sitting ducks.

"Bloody hell, they've got no chance," Will exclaimed as the noise and vibration surrounded them, loud enough to block out all other senses.

Three planes were suddenly visible in the clear sky above them and once observed it was easy to see why they were so unusually low. The third plane in the group was the weak link; the whir of its engine not steady and even but stuttery and oddly whiney. Merlin thought he even saw it's propeller stop momentarily at one point.

Time seemed to slow down as Melin registered several flashes of gunfire emanating from ground level, then the front aircraft blossomed violently into flames before beginning its inevitable decent from the sky. It didn't just drop straight down though, like Merlin somehow expected. In fact if it hadn't been for the screaming engine, the sickening stench of burning fuel and the knowledge that a human being was inside, its progress seemed almost graceful as it glided over the treetops like a large metal bird before it vanished from sight. Five to ten seconds later the boys heard and felt the impact as it hit the earth, orange fire whooshing upwards, bathing the forest in an eerie and unnatural pulsating light for quite some distance.

The other two aircraft were brought down in similar fashion; the pulses of the anti air-craft guns continuing throughout the first plane's demise until all the 'enemy' were dealt with. Fortunately the boys did not witness the second and third hits as the trees blocked their view but the horrendous tearing of metal and concussive explosions reverberating through the forest left little to their imaginations.

"Bloody hell." Will cursed.

Merlin figured Will had seen men die before as part of his duty in the Netherlands Freedom Fighters, but he clearly felt as shaken by the events as himself, going by the pale shocked expression on his face and the trembling of his legs.  
The two boys had unconsciously moved toward each other as they watched the tragic events unfold, so they were now shoulder to shoulder. The violent disregard of human life and the apparent ease with which the planes were reduced into nothing more than burning fragments of metal was both chilling and nauseating and it left Merlin feeling pathetically puny.

"Let's go Will," Merlin turned and grabbed Will's sleeve, urging him to move, but a glimpse of something white behind Will's head caught his eye.

Will followed Merlin's startled stare, hoping desperately it wasn't more of the squadron, doomed to suffer the same fate as their predecessors. The mushroom shaped object shimmered in the moonlight as it floated downwards, a little to the south of their present location.

"It's a parachute Merlin! Come on, there might be a survivor!" Will shouted as he took off toward the gently descending orb of fabric. "We have to get to him before the Germans do!"

**A/N: I'm sure you know who is attached to that parachute?**

**Apparently the Netherlands version of the French Resistance were called Freedom Fighters, and a main part of their rescue work involved saving Allied airmen who'd been shot down and getting them away to safety.**

**Sorry if some if this warfare stuff is boring but it helps the story to make sense.**


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur's POV of his Spitfire being shot down.

As Flight Lieutenant Arthur Pendragon hung helplessly a good 5 metres from the ground, his parachute twisted and trapped within the branches of a giant fir tree, his mind keep reliving those last moments before his Spitfire was caught in the enemies' fire.

He remembered issuing orders over the radio to the other two Spitfire pilots flying in front of him that they must abandon him and save themselves! He knew from experience that his crippled craft would spell the end of them all before long, and he had no wish for good men to die on his behalf.

The fools had of course disobeyed him; their loyalty to their commander was too strong. Lance, Percy and Arthur had formed a close bond throughout the many life endangering missions they'd been in so far and it had become a point of honour now that they would stand by each other till the end.

The pain from the burns he'd suffered along his arm and chest as he escaped the flaming wreckage, the pounding in his head and the bone deep pain in his right ankle flared anew and he wandered if all the sacrifice had been worth it.

His mission on this occasion had been to take photographs of enemy strong-holds in Berlin, which would be converted into maps and used by the Generals back home to plan future bombing missions. The more they knew beforehand, the fewer losses they'd suffer and the closer the end of all the horror of warfare would be.

It had all gone well up to around half an hour ago; himself, Lance and Percy had snuck into Axis territory at high altitude, taken reams of films of pictures and had managed to get out again, all undetected by the enemy. They were on their way home again and were almost at the border of Germany and the Netherlands before their luck ran out. It was then that the engine of Arthur's Spitfire started to play up, dropping power alarmingly, and there was still a heck of a long way to go before they were out of danger.

"Percy, Lance. You have to think of your families, please, go now while you still can." Arthur tried once again to save his friends, his voice sounding oddly robotic and clipped over the radio intercom system.

"No can do Sir." Came Lance's prompt reply. "We'll see it through to the end."

"For God sakes. You haven't sworn an oath of fealty! Go now. Before it's too late." He'd pleaded, even though he knew it would do no good.

Arthur remembered the unhealthy stutter of his plane's engine and dread that any half awake Flak gunner would be able to take them out at their present altitude. Next thing he knew there flames and horrible heat; his Spitfire was doomed and threatening to take him with it. He doesn't remember ejecting but he does recall grasping the roll of film and stowing it away in his pocket. There was still some chance of getting it back to old England and he'd be damned if he'd die for nothing.

At one stage, the fear that he was too close to the ground for his parachute to engage properly, kicked in. That was before he started feeling the pain from the burns.

The tree line came up to meet him far too rapidly, despite the drag effect of his silk parachute. He'd felt gravity slam his body into the unforgiving branches over and over again until the fabric had become too twisted to allow any further decent.

As he hangs like a puppet, abandoned after the latest summer matinee, he isn't sure if his throbbing head and inability to concentrate properly is because he has suffered a concussive blow or if he is just too scared to think straight. He is almost sure his ankle is fractured and he feels bruised and battered all over. His body starts to shake with a mixture of cold, shock and the knowledge that he will die if help doesn't arrive soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N; Hello. Thank you for everybody who has showed interest in my story! Especially those who have Reviewed. Love and happiness to you all!**

When they finally locate him, the airmen is alarmingly still and Merlin feels his heart jump at the prospect that they may be too late.

The boys look at each other, still panting from the exertion of wading through thick snow for what felt like hours, but was really only about 14 minutes.

"One of us will have to climb up" Will starts and Merlin isn't sure if he means to check if the guy is still alive or to release him from his predicament.

"I've always been the better tree climber, I'll go." Merlin offers. Even as children, he was able to climb further and faster than Will; the other boys used to say it was because he had long, skinny limbs, but who knows.

Merlin begins to climb but it is slippery and much more difficult than he remembers. The full moon helps to provide light but the bark is icy and he has to kick off layers of snow before he can ascertain what a good foothold is. His motivation to save the airmen is great and he is shocked by how possessive he feels of the helpless man already.

"Merlin, he's moving! I'm sure I saw him move!" Will calls from below, startling Merlin from his choice of the next foothold.

He catches himself and looks toward the man at the end of the harness who is indeed stirring; lifting his head from where it had fallen forwards onto his chest so his eyes are directed towards the noise of Merlin clambering up towards him.

Remembering to speak English, Merlin calls out tentatively in the pilot's direction.

"We are here to help. Please don't be afraid."

Maybe his English isn't as good as he's always been told or maybe the man is not thinking straight, but the gun the airmen holds in his right hand and points directly towards Merlin is not a good sign.

"Stay back! Who are you?" the airmen hisses out, voice tight with pain.

"My friend below," Merlin dares to remove one hand from the branch he is clutching, to gesture in Will's direction, "He is with the Netherlands Freedom Fighters. He has contacts."

The stricken airman has pushed his large flying goggles back onto his forehead and Merlin can see his startling blue eyes clearly in the moon light. They regard him intently for a few moments before the airmen grimaces again.

"Haven't really got much choice have I," he finally answers resignedly, head sinking to his chest again as the effort to struggle overwhelms him.

Will and Merlin decide the easiest way to free the airmen is to cut him loose from his parachute. They lower him to the ground carefully and quietly, expecting a German patrol to come along at any minute and discover their treachery. It is not an easy job; Merlin stays in the tree, while Will works from below. While they work they discuss the next step in the rescue.

"There's a safe house about halfway to Termuntan. There will be some food and supplies stashed away. If we can get him there, someone will be able to help."

At the moment, Merlin cannot even imagine how they are going to manage that. Although it's only about 5 km away, it may as well be 100 km.

As they finally get him to ground level a stifled cry of pain alerts them that the pilot is awake again. They don't realise it of course, but it is the impact of the pilots' badly sprained (maybe fractured) ankle with the ground that has roused him.  
"Be careful Merlin!" Will admonishes, as Merlin lets go of his rope and climbs down from the tree to land beside the airman. They both kneel down beside him to get a better look at his injuries.

"Lance?" the pilot mutters blearily, raising himself into a half sitting position.

The two Dutch boys look at each other in confusion. Maybe he took a blow to the head, whatever, he's clearly confused.

Merlin scans the man quickly and notes the blackened and torn areas of his flight suit, on both the lower left sleeve and shoulder. Considering the conflagration he has just escaped from, Merlin is amazed that seems to be the only burns he has sustained.

Will's English is very weak and for once he is jealous of his friend's academic achievements. (Merlin had done extremely well at school at would have gone to University, with Gaius' assistance, if war hadn't broken out.)

"Ask him if he is well enough to stand Merlin. We have to get moving!" Will prompts in agitation. It's highly possible they weren't the only ones to see the parachute descending.

"Sir," Merlin starts, "We need to get to a safe house. Can you move?"

"I don't know. My ankle..." he pulls his leather helmet and goggles off to reveal blond hair and an alarming bloody trickle running down the right side of his head. "Bloody hell," he curses under his breath, still shaking with shock as he squeezes at the bridge above his nose.

Merlin sees him struggle with the release button at the centre of his harness and leans in to help. With a 'plock' the metal clasp comes undone and the waist straps and shoulder straps begin to fall away.

"Thanks. Can't stop my hands from shaking." The pilot responds unsteadily.

"That's okay. I'm Merlin by the way. This is Will." Merlin wants to smile in reassurance but doesn't quite know if it's apprpriate.

"Arthur. I'd say pleased to meet you but considering the circumstances," a weak half smile flits across the pilots face and Merlin takes in his strong jaw line and crinkles that have formed beside the upturned side of his mouth.

Together, the three of them help Arthur to his feet, ridding him of his harness and life vest in the process.

In the event of being shot down in enemy territory, RAF pilots are instructed to bury any discarded parachutes and associated equipment so it doesn't give their position away. There isn't time to untangle the chute from the tree so they have to leave it where it is. Further snowfalls during the night will help hide it anyway.

The next few hours are a blur of pain and determination for Arthur. He does his best to walk under his own steam and grips on desperately as he finds himself perched on the back of a bicycle. Every bump and turn in the road causes him pain, but he stifles it as best he can, never making a sound. He can feel his palms sweating despite the icy cold and hopes the skinny kid he's clinging onto doesn't comprehend just how scared he is.

The safe house is more of a tunnel that has been excavated below an unused animal shed that is part of a farm. The shed is hidden by other out buildings including a large barn. Once inside the shed, Will pulls a segment of wall aside and the hiding place is revealed. It is cold, damp and unpleasant. The gentle, warm light provided by the gas lamp Will locates and lights helps only slightly to make the place more bearable.

Arthur flops to the ground in exhaustion, groaning softly.

Merlin brings down some dry, clean hay from the barn and spreads it out in a corner, then retrieves blankets from the stash of supplies Will has unearthed, spreading one over the pile of hay. He then helps Arthur onto the makeshift bed, covering him up gently with another blanket.

"He needs medical help Will." Merlin speaks in little more than a whisper. "Who knows what injuries he has? Us dragging him through the forest wouldn't have helped either."

"I know, I know. What choice did we have?" Will rummages in the supply pack and digs out a small flask and a First Aid kit, the last item he hands straight to Merlin.

"You must have picked up something trailing around after Gaius all the time? I'll try and get someone to come out, but if you can do something now - at least take a look at his burns." Will urges.

"I'll do what I can, but if there's internal injuries or something..." He picks out what he needs from the First Aid kit, then shakes Arthur's shoulder carefully.

"Arthur, I need to have a look at your wounds. Is that ok?" Arthur's gaze is cloudy but he nods and makes a noise of acknowledgement.  
As carefully as he can, Merlin cuts away fabric from Arthur's sleeve so he can examine the damage below.

"Here, better give him some of this," Will hands Merlin the silver flask after taking a sip himself first. Arthur lifts himself up using his right arm and gratefully takes a swallow.

"Will, you must take this," Arthur hands him a small metal cylinder he pulls out of his pocket. "It has to get back to HQ as soon as possible. Do you now someone who can arrange that?"

Will nods, "Yes, i have contacts." He solemnly replies.

"Good. I don't want all this to be a waste of time. Merlin, do what you must," he grunts, beckoning Merlin to carry on, before dropping back to horizontal again.

Will lights another lamp and searches for more sources of heat and light. The cold down here is brutal and he worries it is severe enough to finish off an already weakened person. This will be his first real solo effort as a Freedom Fighter, and he wants to succeed.

Merlin works with a confidence he rarely feels, cleaning the wounds and applying disinfectant. He can hear his Great Uncle Gaius' voice in his head schooling him about the dangers of infection and fluid loss that burns engender. He wraps the arm and then the shoulder/ chest burns to prevent further dirt and germs getting to them.

Arthur's head wound has stopped bleeding by this time but has left a bit of a mess. After cleaning up the area, Merlin can see the wound doesn't require stitches but there is a hell of a contusion and lump remaining. He prays to whatever deities Arthur might have, that his skull or brain wasn't damaged as well.

Will has managed to light a small heater and the chill is receding at last.

"Can you help me here Will? We need to get his right boot off. Thanks." Merlin is no expert, but he thinks it is a strain so wraps the ankle tightly and has Will assist him to replace Arthur's boot.

"I've done all I can Will, but he needs a doctor." Merlin repeats his earlier declaration, turning his head toward his friend.

When they sneak out to let the pilot rest, they notice that the dawn is nearly upon them. The sky to the east is lighter and a faint shade of orange is beginning to form just above the horizon.

"I have to go Merlin. If I don't show up at work, it will look suspicious. I'll try and get to my contact as soon as I can."

"I think I'll stay for a while. I don't want him to wake up alone." Merlin gestures toward the secret doorway. "If you see my mum, just tell her you saw me going into the forest early."

Hunith worked as a teacher in the mornings, giving the local children a basic education. She also did cleaning four afternoons a week. Merlin helped out on the local farms when they were busy with harvesting or something, but winter meant things were pretty quiet. Consequently, he wasn't expected anywhere today.

Will started to leave but stopped at the shed door. "Merlin, you do understand we can't let anybody know about this. It could mean our lives if we're caught."

"I know."

"I'm serious Merlin! No-one can see us come and go! "

"Yes, I know Will." Merlin answers angrily; sick of being treated like a stupid child. "His life depends on us. I won't risk anything." Merlin finished more calmly.

Will set off for home, before it got too light. Merlin quietly went back into the safe house, determined to be there when Arthur awoke. He saw the man twitch in his sleep and hoped it was him dreaming, not a precursor of infection and fever. Even after only a few hours of knowing of his existance, Merlin felt deeply responsible for Arthur's safety. He vowed then and there to do his best for this man, trapped so far away from the people who loved and cared about him. A man who'd acted with honour and bravery; who'd risked his life (and his friends had lost their lives) to obtain the valuable film that he'd handed to Will.

**A\N: Well, how was the chapter? I know it's an AU but do the characters seem in character?**  
**Do you feel I have reproduced the era/ season / country effectively?**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Not a great deal of action in this chapter, mainly a bit of bonding between our two boys. (Non slashy bonding.)

It is well into the day when Arthur wakes from his disturbed sleep. Merlin has managed to put together a sort of weak soup using the dried rations he found in the supply kit and it smells amazingly good. His mother always made broth for him when he was unwell so he thought that would be a good choice for the injured man. Testing it for saltiness, Merlin decides it actually smells significantly better than it tastes.

"Arthur, do you think you can have something to eat?" Merlin asks.

Arthur tries to pull himself into an upright position but lets out a partially stifled yell of agony at the attempt.

"Wait, I'll help you," Merlin scrambles over to assist but before he can do much, Arthur has braced himself on his uninjured arm and determinedly begun to raise himself to a sitting position, his face twisted in pain.

"Let me help," Merlin does his best to help Arthur move backwards so he can lean against the wall, noticing how pale the airman's colour is. "Are you always so stubborn?" he asks gently as Arthur's face relaxes again.

"Hmmph, you sound like my half sister," Arthur replies half smiling and still breathing deeply from the exertion.

Merlin beckons Arthur to lean forward then places the blanket around his shoulders, being careful not to touch his injuries. He notices that Arthur's hands are still trembling as he clutches the woollen blanket around himself.

"Well anyway, I've made some soup. It doesn't taste too good, but it might make you feel a bit better."

Merlin spoons some of the soup into two mugs, then hands one to Arthur, hoping he won't spill it all over himself because he's too proud to admit he can't hold it properly.

They each sip their drinks in silence for a while.

"That canister of film you gave Will?" Merlin begins tentatively. "What were the photos of?"

Arthur studies the boy closely trying to work out his age. He has huge blue eyes that gaze at him in innocence and his pale, smooth skin render it difficult to guess. His closely cropped hair makes his ears stand out which further adds to his youthful appearance. Arthur decides he can't be too young to have learnt some stuff though and living in a Nazi occupied village would surely mean he'd experienced things - cruel, inhumane, brutal things - so he probably can't be as naive as he looks suggest.

"Our mission was to photograph potential bombing targets. The more accurate and up to date info we have at our disposal, the less lives that have to be wasted in the next attack strategy." Arthur explains. He can't help but think of Lance and Percy and their sacrifice.

Wiping at his eyes angrily he tries to stop himself from dwelling on them.

"Your friend, Will, how long have you known him?"

Merlin shrugs, "All my life really. We're neighbours so... you know how it is."

"So you trust him then?" Arthur pins Merlin with a steely gaze.

"Of course. With my life." Merlin tries not to feel annoyed at Arthur's question. They've both risked a lot already to save his arse after all. Then again, if he was all alone in a strange country, where discovery would mean imprisonment or possibly execution and he'd just witnessed his two best friend's deaths, perhaps he'd be slightly lacking in the ability to trust too.

"He'll do what it takes to get you to safety." Merlin continues, holding the older man's stare.

"He's been in the Freedom Fighters for a year or so, possibly longer. Maybe he's even done this sort of thing before?" Merlin isn't entirely sure what Will's duties have entailed but he remembers one night when village Nazi HQ was 'accidentally' flooded and another night when a local work camp was raided and on both occasions Will wasn't home till the early hours of the morning.

"So how come you aren't part of the Resistance? Too young?" Arthur asks, between sips of soup, more to make conversation than anything. He doesn't expect Merlin's reaction to be so extreme. The dark haired boy's eyes drop to the floor and it's almost as though a shutter has been pulled down over his face. All the life and optimism that was so easy to see in the bright, engaging smile not a moment ago is replaced by a severe, solemn expression and a refusal to make eye contact.

"No. I mean yes. Well, I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing I guess." Merlin stutters awkwardly, turning away to study the clay laden earth of the fortress' walls.

"There's no shame in being scared Merlin." Arthur continues, frowning, assuming he has caused embarrassment.

"No, that's not what I meant." Merlin replies quickly, shaking his head. It had been going well up to now. There was even a chance Arthur would just think of him as a normal person, but there was always that point in the conversation where he had to back pedal or lie or change subjects. Never could he seem to escape the spectra of his illness, hanging over him like a black cloud threatening to ruin everything.

Arthur continues to study Merlin's reactions closely, concluding there's definitely something he's hiding but he can't quite put his finger on it; is it shame?

"Well, you seemed pretty useful last night." Arthur begins. Finally, the boy lifts his face again and manages to meet Arthur's gaze. He still doesn't talk though.

"I mean it. If it wasn't for you and your mate, I doubt I would still be alive." Arthur continues trying to break through the younger man's hastily thrown up barrier.

"I didn't think you'd remember much actually. You were pretty out of it when we got you out of the tree."

Arthur takes a breath before answering, "It is rather hazy. But I do recall being on the back of your bike. And you climbed the tree to cut me free." Arthur looks into the middle distance, his mind latching onto the memory. "That can't have been easy in the frozen conditions."

Merlin nodded slightly, eyes sinking to the ground again. He was never very good at taking praise, it made him feel very uncomfortable.

"I only did what I thought was right." He answered dismissively. "Anyway," Merlin stood up slowly, "I think I better go. My mum gets home at about 1 and she'll wonder where I am."

Merlin starts to leave but just before he pulls aside the wall section that makes up the entry point, he turns back.

"Will you be alright?"

"Yeah. I should probably get some rest. You go on home." He gives Merlin a weak half smile. "Your friend's contacts are probably organizing something right now." To Merlin's ears it sounds like the reassurance is as much for himself as it is for him.

...

Merlin does not see Will for the rest of the day or into the next night.

He'd returned home from the 'safe house' after lunchtime with a couple of dead rabbits to use as a cover story to explain his whereabouts. Fortunately, Hunith had been too tired to notice his absence or the state of anxiety he seemed to hold inside himself like a tightly coiled spring.

Throughout the day Merlin frequently finds himself pondering what is happening to Arthur. Have the Resistance made contact yet, has medical help been summoned? He fights the urge to go into the village and see Will at the garage as he doesn't want to take any risk of giving the game away.

"How about trading the rabbits for some bacon Merlin? It'd make a nice change?" Hunith interrupts his thoughts as they start to prepare a meagre dinner. "We won't get much, but De Windt owes me a favour." De Windt, a pig farmer who lives not far from them, is a bit of a grouchy old man these days and Merlin does not relish the prospect of visiting him.

Hunith recognizes the reluctance in her son's expression, "Go on Merlin. For me, please?"

"Ok." Merlin relents smiling. As if he could willingly deprive her of anything she wished; god knows there are enough restrictions in their lives at the moment anyway.

Next morning Merlin sets off on his old bicycle again to De Windt's farm. He has to pull off the road soon afterwards to allow a German patrol to pass by, heading in the other direction. A dozen soldiers clad in 'Feldgrau' trench coats and caps, rifles over their shoulders, marching in orderly formation forge ahead like a relentless piece of machinery. Merlin watches them pass with a sickening feeling in his stomach.

When Merlin reached De Windt's pig sheds about quarter of an hour later he sees another patrol off in the distance, heading into the woods. This one consists of a heavy duty, open topped vehicle as followed by a dozen or more foot soldiers. It wasn't unusual to come across patrols of foot soldiers every now and again but usually they were in the village and they were never this big. Something is definitely going on.

De Windt confirms his rising fears, gesturing toward the Germans with his head as he comments, "They've been making their presence felt today. Some poor English bugger hiding out in the woods apparently." Merlin just stares back at the old man, too anxious to reply.

"Didn't you hear all that racket the other night boy? A couple of English planes were shot down and one of the pilots ejected. They found his parachute but not him." The farmer finishes his tale, heading toward the farmhouse to make the trade.

"Do you think they'll find him?" Merlin asks, voice taught with nerves, as he hurries along after De Windt.

"Hope not." Weathered brow furrowed, the old man looks Merlin up and down as though assessing him. "There are some brave lads out there who'll do what they can to help." The look of disapproval directed his way suggests that the farmer doesn't think Merlin could possibly be up to the job.

Grabbing his small parcel of bacon, Merlin rushes off feeling humiliated. Trying to quell his rising feelings of self disgust, Merlin reminds himself that he had been part of the rescue already.

Despite what the people around here have him pigeon holed as, Merlin realises for the first time that maybe he can be successful at something. He vows to himself to prove them all wrong as he begins to pedal determinedly home.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N; This is not a very positive chapter so sorry for that.  
**

The increased presence of German patrols and the knowledge that they were actively searching for Arthur played on Merlin's mind constantly. He struggled valiantly to quell the anxiety which circled his mind relentlessly like a wasp trapped in a bottle, but it was a struggle doomed for failure.

By early afternoon he could contain his anxiety no longer and set off into the village not long after lunchtime. His plan was to take his spare bike tyre, which was flat again, and ask Will to have a look at it for him. Hopefully he'd at least be able to learn if Arthur was still safe. Hunith had asked him to try and get more bread, so he had to make the journey anyway.

Once more he donned his coat, hat, scarf and mitts and set off down the icy road. As he cycled past the frozen lake his mind flashed back to events of, was it just two days ago? It felt more like weeks. The close call hadn't put many people off apparently; the fishermen were there, huddled down beside the holes they'd drilled in the ice and there were a few kids skating out towards the centre of the frozen surface too. Merlin shivered as he recalled the sensations that had overtaken him so utterly as he witnessed the drama, and at the (it still felt bizarre) notion that he held such power somewhere within himself.

The garage was on the other side of town so Merlin had to cycle down the main street to get there. He pedalled slowly past the general store, post office, butcher, bakery (the last two stores were only open once or twice a week nowadays due to food shortages), the hardware supply, the small inn, the church and of course the town hall on the corner. Two large flags bearing the Swastika symbol were hung on either face of the largest building in town. The Nazi's had converted it into their headquarters not long after they invaded; it's elegant exterior and double street frontage making it the ideal choice for a show of power.

The street to his right held the small local hospital and the old people's home. His Uncle Gaius had worked at the well equipped hospital before the war, both as a practicing doctor and on his own research projects. When he was younger, Merlin stopped in to help and watch Gaius with the later as often as he could. The intricate glassware, coloured ingredients and the theories his Uncle was currently working on thoroughly intrigued him and he'd even held some idea of being a doctor himself, before the full limitations of his condition were apparent to him.

"Will!" Merlin called out tentatively as he entered the garage and saw his friend selecting a spanner from a large, well equipped tool bench near the back corner of the room.

Will looked up upon hearing his name, then seeing who it was, quickly scanned the rest of the garage for the presence of other staff.

"What are you doing here Merlin?" he answered in a low voice.

"It's my tyre. Keeps going flat." Merlin waved the offending tyre in the air as he and Will approached each other.

"You shouldn't be here." Will hissed at him.

"I know." Merlin shook his head gently, voice almost at a whisper. "I couldn't help it. There's patrols everywhere Will."

"Just calm down Merlin. It's all going ok." Will could see the tension in his friend's face and did his best to reassure him without saying too much.

Just then, Will's boss entered the garage from his small office. Schroder was a bald man in his 60's, whose generously proportioned stomach prevented the proper closure of his overalls. He was widely suspected of being a Nazi sympathizer; both his business and personal situation prospering since the occupation.

"I might have time to have a look later. Leave it here; I'll see what I can do." Will improvises, grabbing the tyre from Merlin and ushering him toward the door stiffly. Merlin took the hint, backing out of Schroder's garage eagerly.

Mounting his bike, which he'd left at the front of the garage, Merlin sees a German officer and two soldiers heading towards him, their Jackboots clicking loudly on the pavement. Repeating Will's encouraging words to himself, he puts his head down and starts to pedal past them, all the while waiting for them to intercept him for questioning.

Once he has gone beyond them he allows himself to breathe again.

He is only a 50 meters away when he hears German accented shouting behind him.

"Halt, in the name of the Fuhrer!"

Merlin's head turns around reflexly and he skids to a halt, taking cover behind a parked vehicle. He cannot believe the horrendous sight playing out in front of him. Will is running down the street, his face tensed in fear. The Officer is standing serenely outside Schroder's garage with hands clasped behind his back as he yells out orders.

"Stop or we'll shoot!" he shouts.

Time seems to slow down for Merlin as he sees the soldiers raise their rifles to aim at Will's retreating figure. He knows without a doubt what's going to happen and he frantically tries to summon his 'ability'. Maybe he could block the bullets or something? Reaching deep inside himself, Merlin searches desperately for the tingling energy he remembers from lake 'incident'. With his mind's eye he can see it, but it's just out of reach. Panic fast closing in he tries again to reach out and there is a slight spark of energy, akin to the lighting of a match, before it retreats away, completely beyond his grasp.

With a sickening dread he realises he can do nothing but watch as his best friend is shot down barely 30 meters from him.

Will's lifeless body slumps to the pavement, blood flowing from bullet holes in his head and torso.

Merlin sees the soldiers walking up the pavement toward their victim, one of them laughing and lighting a cigarette as though it's some casual task they've just completed. Their nonchalance is both chilling and stomach turning. His tear filled eyes also see the Officer and Schroder, now standing side by side chatting and nodding. The Officer shakes Schroder's hand before joining his men beside Will's body. Unable to take any more, Merlin turns away and slumps against the car's wheel, shaking and sobbing for his lost friend.

Within a few minutes Merlin's anguish turns to panic. If the German's know about Will do they know about the location of the 'safe house' too?

Shaking with shock, Merlin wipes his face with the back of his mittened hand. Determined to keep Arthur safe, he finds the strength to stand up and the drive to keep on going. He has to wheel his bike for a bit as a crowd of onlookers has formed along this side of the street. Dodging and weaving Merlin gets past the groups of people and starts to ride again.

Much to his consternation another small crowd has formed opposite the Town Hall, just beside the WW 1 Memorial. The Feldgrau coloured uniform of the German army is prevalent amongst the group of people but locals in civvies are interspersed throughout. There is a lot of murmuring and pointing toward the Nazi HQ.

Merlin casually glances at the Town Hall, only really interested in getting out of town to check on Arthur. When he finally notices what everyone is staring at he does a double take, narrowly avoiding a collision with a dog before bringing his bike to an abrupt stop. The gigantic Swastika's hung on both street fronts of the building are gone. In their place hang bright red flags emblazoned with a single large, stylized, golden dragon. Merlin stares unbelievingly; the dragon motif is too much to be a coincidence surely?

"Every single flag throughout the building?" he overhears an elderly lady ask the fellow standing beside her; her tone filled with scepticism.

"That's what the blond soldier over there said," he replied nodding. "At 2.34pm precisely every Swastika in the place changed into that dragon thingy."

Merlin cannot make out any more of the conversation as all he hears is the buzzing inside his head. He feels nauseous and trapped amongst the people and his vision is starting to blur with lack of oxygen.

The knowledge that his 'magic' (if that is the correct word for it) has carried out this trivial unimportant thing but has failed utterly to prevent his best friend from being callously murdered sickens him. Any idea he'd been starting to form that he had some power to do something worthwhile with his life, was smothered by the self disgust and guilt that loitered in his mind, smothering everything in its path like a wave of thick, black, freezing water.

**A/N: I know, the dragon flags were a bit random. The story is not meant to be a reincarnation fic. but I couldn't help myself.  
Sorry for the sad ending. My little kitty, Arkwright, was killed by a car yesterday, so it kinda suits my mood. RIP Arki – I love you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N; First of all Good Luck to all the poor people out there facing exams and finals! Please don't let it overwhelm you, and remember you are more than a number generated by a test result!**  
**Secondly, thank you to all the lovely, caring people who reviewed the last chapter and a special shout out to fairy goatmother!**

**In this chapter the boys learn a little more about each other, and we (the reader) delve into Arthur's background and personal motives.**

* * *

Encased within the four clay walls of his hide out, Arthur dozed fitfully. Every sound from outside, no matter how slight, roused him from his restless slumber and sent a chill of fear through him. He was far more accustomed to taking action and facing things head on; being stuck here, hiding out and waiting passively for the enemy to find him, was taking its toll on his state of mind. The fact that Will or one of his contacts hadn't been in touch yet was further agitating his usually calm, controlled demeanour. He estimated that at least 36 hours had passed since Merlin had left and he was beginning to wonder what was going on.

It was pretty much impossible to discern day from night in the artificially lit space and the nervous tension of waiting for discovery slowly turned to exhaustion as the hours went by.

He found himself dreaming of home and of his father.

As the only child of former Admiral Uther Pendragon of the Royal Navy, a great deal had been expected of him from an early age. He'd always tried so hard to be the son his father wanted him to be; excelling academically at school (the very same Public school that Uther had attended), becoming the youngest ever captain of the University cricket team, making sure he mixed with the right social set, then entering the Royal Air Force, as soon as the war broke out.

He'd invested so much of his emotional and physical energy striving to gain the approval he so keenly craved, that never had it occurred to him to seek another path. Since he was a very young boy his father had firmly instilled in him the notion that he would one day join the armed services and carry out his duty to his country, as had all the male Pendragon's before him.

There were duties and expectations as part of his personal life too. The Pendragon's were members of the peerage and from 'old money', and as such their estates were extensive and worth millions. The 18th century baroque style mansion that comprised the family home, sat within 800 acres of beautiful land and contained within it, countless works of art. As well as his military career, Arthur would be expected to competently manage and govern the family's empire (when his time came).

Power and wealth were accepted norms to Arthur since childhood and having a father who was in command of the entire Royal Navy whilst he was growing up, further added to the perceived status.

Fortunately for Arthur, the journey of life prescribed to him before birth appeared to fit him like a well made suit of armour. His natural athletic abilities, physical strength, instinctive leadership qualities and strong devotion to duty were ideal qualities for where he was headed. Only a few times in his life had Arthur pondered whether he had moulded himself into this 'destiny' or if the 'destiny' had moulded him.

No matter what success' Arthur had achieved, he always felt it was never enough. Over and over again he'd pushed himself to his physical and/or mental limits, but not once did he hear his father say how proud he was of him or did he receive a sign that he had his father's approval. He could, however, recall many occasions when Uther looked at him with disappointment (and perhaps resentment?) etched upon his face. Never more so than when he informed him that he had signed up for the Royal Air Force instead of the Royal Navy.

Despite all this, Arthur loved his father deeply and he fervently wished that he was sitting opposite him right now, safe and warm in the leather armchairs of their informal parlour room, receiving tea and perhaps another of Uther's lectures.

Standing and stretching out his cramped muscles, Arthur flinched at a rustling noise outside. He fumbled for his revolver and quickly extinguished the lamps, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

* * *

Merlin waited until it was almost dark before setting off for the 'safe house'. Even amidst his grief over Will and his disgust at the complete ineffectiveness of his 'magic' when he most needed it, the rational part of his mind knew it would be nothing short of stupid to go to Arthur in broad daylight. He would have no hope of staying out of sight of the numerous German Patrols' and their incessant questions, even if he could use his animal traps as an excuse for being out in the countryside.

The weight of responsibility on his narrow shoulders had given him the impetus to pull himself out of his depressed state and keep fighting. Arthur was now relying on him solely for salvation and Merlin felt an inexplicably strong compulsion to carry out that very task. Quite why he felt so driven to help, even at the risk of his own safety, Merlin could not fully understand.

The icy chill of the evening air cut into his face cruelly as he started off through the woods, making his eyes water in an imitation of the tears he'd shed a few hours before. He gritted his teeth determinedly and wiped his face with the back of a mittened hand. The need to aid the fallen Airmen tingling through his veins, giving him strength and focus.

Merlin wasn't even 10 minutes into his journey before he came across a patrol of foot soldiers. The noise of many marching feet gave their presence away before any visual sign and fortunately gave him enough warning time to hide. Quickly dismounting and wheeling his bike into the trees that lined the pathway, Merlin ducked down and stayed as still as he could until the patrol passed by.

Breathing deeply, Merlin emerged from the trees and brushed snow from his clothes before continuing.

* * *

The first thing Merlin noticed as he pulled aside the wall panel of the shed to gain entry into the 'safe house' was the lack of light. Before he had time to comprehend what this could possibly mean, he felt somebody grab his right shoulder roughly, pulling him forward then the pressure of a strong arm reaching from behind him and crushing around his throat. The click of a revolver being cocked right next to his ear was followed by harsh orders as his assailant pushed him to his knees.

"Don't move or I'll shoot."

Merlin tried to answer but all that came out was a strangled cry. A light was shone in his face and he was promptly released.

"Merlin! What are you doing! Why didn't you have a light on or something?" A clearly agitated Arthur bent down beside Merlin, who was still gasping for air, assessing the damage he'd inflicted.

Merlin waved a hand and answered unsteadily, "I was trying to stay hidden! I thought a light might give me away."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "Gods, I was about to shoot you!" He spluttered, rising and striding (hobblingly) the three paces that took him to the other end of the small space like a caged animal. Wincing and rubbing his injured forearm subconsciously, Arthur added, "Being stuck in here like a sitting duck is driving me mad!"

Merlin could see that Arthur was at the end of his tether, an emotion he understood all too well.

"We have to move Arthur!" Merlin began frantically once he'd caught his breath. "Will...Will is dead. Someone gave him away to the Nazi's and I don't know if it's safe here anymore."

Arthur stared at the boy absorbing what he was saying and the pleading intensity of his eyes as he spoke.

_Shit._ "I'm sorry. He was a good man."

"Yeah, he was." Merlin replied softly, staring down at the floor.

Arthur's training took over as he rapidly tried to assess the best way out of his dangerous situation. He could not help but be impressed by the young man's bravery in coming to him alone, risking his own safety when it was quite possible that his enemies were on their way this very minute to apprehend him.

"Do you know anywhere else I could hide Merlin? Somewhere the German's don't know about?"

Merlin nodded. He'd wracked his brains for somewhere vaguely suitable, all afternoon. "There's the remains of an old mine shaft in Degenaar Woods. We used to play there when we were kids. It won't be at all comfortable, but it will offer a bit of shelter."

The two of them stuffed what they could into a rucksack Merlin had brought along; mainly clothes and whatever food remained. There was only time for immediate necessities.

They emerged into the cold sting of the night air a few minutes later, all senses on full alert. Arthur had changed into regular clothes that were part of the stashed items in the 'safe house'. They were ill fitting and smelt rather damp and mouldy, never the less, he knew they'd make him much less visible than his pilot outfit. Pulling on a tatty old coat and blue wool hat he followed Merlin as best he could with his damaged ankle.

"It's about 30 minutes ride Arthur. Are you going to be okay to hold on?" Merlin asked, looking toward the arm the Englishman was clearly favouring.

"I'll be fine Merlin," he answered in clipped tones. If he wanted to get out of enemy territory and back home, he'd have to be. In truth though, he felt weak and couldn't stop trembling. His ankle throbbed constantly and his burnt arm and shoulder kept getting knocked against things, causing extreme and sharp stabs of pain.

Scanning the surrounds constantly, Merlin directed Arthur to sit on the seat of his trusty bicycle, with his feet on the rear axles, while he pedalled standing up, in front of him. It was hard work for Merlin as Arthur was a significant load, being of larger build than Merlin, with broader shoulders and more developed muscles.

Arthur awkwardly held onto Merlin's coat as best he could. The moon and stars provided the only light to guide their way, as Merlin dared not have his wind up torch switched on.

"That's Degenaar Words," Merlin indicated the treed area they were fast approaching.

"How much further?" Arthur grimaced, trying to keep his voice steady and strong.

"Another quarter of an hour maybe? Do you want me to stop for a while?"

"No. No keep going."

They both heard the sound of voices coming from the woods ahead, at about the same time. Merlin jerked the bike to a halt as Arthur swore under his breath. They were still out in the open with only a thin line of almost bare deciduous trees lining the road to their right. As is common in the Low Countries, the road was raised and had deep ditches on both sides. Quickly surveying the area, Merlin realized that these were their only hope of a hiding spot.

"The ditch Arthur, quickly!" Merlin half dragged the sluggish airmen down the slope. It was obvious he wasn't in good shape but Merlin had no time to deal with that now.

He all but threw the bike down the 2 metre slope then did his best to cover it over with snow and fallen leaves. The men had to lie completely horizontally within the depression of the ditch in order to be hidden from view and they were both silently grateful for the absence of water. Dragging snow over Arthur then himself, Merlin could hear his heart thumping so loudly he was sure it would give them away.

Arthur tired to control his breathing and keep perfectly still as they heard the sounds of the patrol getting nearer. Despite the cold snow covering him, he could feel sweat dripping down his back and his head was pulsating with heat. He was almost sure it was the beginnings of a fever; the flayed skin on his forearm was the perfect location for infection to enter his body.

It seemed to take forever for the sound of German voices and marching boots to recede into the distance but finally Merlin felt safe enough to sit up. He breathed deeply in relief and reached for Arthur.

"They've gone," he whispered, voice sounding way too loud in his ears. "We better get moving."

Arthur began to move too, albeit slowly and unsteadily. Almost to his feet again, he emitted a harsh, stifled cry of pain before grimacing then determinedly continuing.

"It's not much further." Merlin added, grabbing Arthur's uninjured arm and helping him back up to the road. Arthur nodded but didn't speak as Merlin gently tried to brush some of the snow off their clothes. While Merlin retrieved his bike from its position a few metres along the ditch, Arthur inhaled deeply trying to draw on every reserve of strength he had for the rest of the journey.

In truth he was more than a little embarrassed at his display of weakness. Being forced to take the role of a follower since the crash made him feel useless. He couldn't help but think that as the experienced enlisted man, he should be the person making the decisions and taking control. Instead, a completely untrained civilian, barely out of his teens had to virtually carry his useless arse across the countryside. What would his father think if saw him reduced to this?

All the same, he was very thankful for Merlin's efforts; the young man's calmness and bravery continued to impress him.

* * *

The mine shaft, or what was left of it, was smaller than Merlin remembered, but adequate. Being litte more than a hole he hoped the Germans would not even be aware of its existence. The entry was such that it could be obscured completely with branches, giving Merlin a small measure of confidence. Arthur's health however, was worrying him greatly. The man was clearly in pain and the sheen of sweat on his brow indicated he had a fever. Merlin did his best to set up a dry resting place for Arthur and then got him to drink some water.

"Thanks." Arthur answered weakly.

"You need to rest Arthur. We should be okay here for a while."

Watching Arthur's pallid face as he clutched his burnt forearm and tried to get comfortable, Merlin decided to stay till morning then sneak back home at dawn. He knew he had to get medical help to Arthur ASAP as he was deteriorating rapidly and there was only one person he could think of whom he'd trust with the situation.

**A/N; Any guesses who the hep will come from?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N; Medical help arrives for Arthur - anf none too soon. Aldryne21 guessed correctly who the person would be. Well done!  
**

Merlin set out toward the village to seek out help for Arthur as soon as his mother left for the school rooms that morning. He had ridden hard all the way home from Degenaar Woods as dawn broke to ensure he arrived home just before his mum got up. Hunith had been in quite a state since she heard about Will yesterday and he did not wish her to notice his absence as it would just worry her. His deception made him feel dirty somehow, but the thought of what was at stake helped ease his guilty conscience.

Merlin was anxious about whether he was doing the right thing, but knew he had to act quickly for Arthur's sake. Ideally he needed a doctor but a nurse could be just as useful.

Merlin had first met Guinevere over four years ago when she was working in the lab with his great Uncle. She was a trainee nurse back then but Gaius often sequestered her assistance as he considered her to be one of the brightest girls at the facility. Although a few years older than Merlin, she always spoke to him like an intelligent, worthwhile person whereas most people in the village treated him more like a mentally deficient freak. Over the next year or so, before Gaius left, Merlin came across Gwen quite a lot and she was always approachable, honest and polite. As he turned the corner into the street where the hospital was situated, Merlin hoped fervently that his judgement of her character was sound.

The Van Der Moor Memorial Hospital was one of the largest buildings in the village. Merlin previously associated it with his Uncle Gaius and their gentle camaraderie as he escaped the bullying of the school yard to join him in his laboratory. Right now though, all it inspired in him was fear and uncertainty.

A group of three soldiers stood on the small paved area at the front of the hospital smoking cigarettes, guns slung casually over their shoulders as they laughed and chatted. Merlin propped his bike against the fence then breathing deeply and shoving his frozen hands into his coat pockets to try and thaw them out after the brisk ride into town, he walked as casually as he could past the men being careful to avoid eye contact.

When he pushed open the main door and entered the grand old building he was confronted by the smell of disinfectant and the sight of numerous white aproned nurses moving about purposefully. The warm air brought a pleasant flush to his cheeks and he gratefully pulled off his hat and mittens. Shuffling forward in the main lobby, Merlin quickly studied each nurse that came into view, hoping to catch sight of the slight figure and darker skin of Gaius' friend.

Having no success and feeling sure he was going to be told to leave any minute, Merlin walked toward one of the main wards and peered through the glass section of door to look inside. The straight rows of white, metal framed beds lining either wall were interspersed with more nursing staff and doctors in long white coats. Merlin felt like he was sullying the place, as he looked down as his tatty old coat and none too clean boots.

"Merlin, is that you?" A sweet voice called out softly behind him.

Merlin whirled around, nerves on edge.

"Gwen," he exclaimed, voice louder than he'd meant. One look into her compassionate eyes and her gentle face creased with worry at his unexpected visit, told him he'd made the right decision.

* * *

Arthur stirred anxiously in his makeshift bed, trying to get comfortable. His fever had worsened, if anything, during the day and his head felt like it was about to burst with pressure. Waves of heat then cold rippled through his body and he'd started to shiver and sweat alternatively. The savage, unrelenting pain of his burnt forearm indicated that injury was the culprit of his woes. The burns across his shoulder and torso were sore but not to the same degree as his arm. He supposed that the thick canvas and leather straps of his harness had protected him a little from the flames of his burning aircraft.

The triple, high pitch whistle that himself and Merlin had settled upon as an arrival signal broke into his fever affected awareness and he sat up as best he could when bright daylight entered the small underground cavern as Merlin lifted the trap door.

He wondered briefly if he might be hallucinating as following Merlin down the steep steps was an angel; her halo shining brightly as she was lit up from behind. When she moved toward him, Arthur realised it was just an illusion. Before him stood a girl wearing a dark blue woollen cape and sitting on top of her black curly hair was a traditional nurse's cap, the brim of which he'd mistaken for a halo.

"Arthur, this is Guinevere. She's a nurse." Merlin began, kneeling down beside him.

"I thought it was an angel." Arthur's voice sounded mumbled and his eyes looked glazed.

Gwen quickly took in Arthur's obvious poor state and swallowed, giving a pointed look to Merlin as he moved aside to give her space.

She started her examination by checking the patient's pulse and feeling his forehead, her practiced eye noting searching for tell tale signs of injury. She'd brought along some basic medical supplies that Merlin's description of Arthur's wounds would suggest most useful.

"Can we get any better light here Merlin? Maybe a torch or something?" She asked uncertainly.

"Yes, here. How's that?" Merlin held up his little torch for her. It was the best they could do under the circumstances, its feeble light barely sufficient for the job at hand. Gwen nodded, appreciating the effort as she opened the bag she had over her shoulder and took out what she'd need.

Gwen asked Merlin to help Arthur remove his clothing so she could further examine him. He had done a pretty good job of informing her of the nature and extent of the injuries sustained, so she knew where to begin.

"I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt," Gwen warned, then began peeling the layers of oozing, blood and pus encrusted fabric from Arthur's left forearm.

"Just do it." Arthur hissed back, keeping his teeth clenched together tightly to stop himself from crying out. A stifled scream escaped from his lips as Gwen removed the last of the wrapping.

Gwen's hands moved with practiced ease and efficiently as she cleaned Arthur's forearm with dilute disinfectant, applied a sulphonamide powder then wrapped the area with clean bandages. She repeated the process with his shoulder, glancing often at her patient's face to get an idea of how much he could take.

Arthur stoically bore her ministrations, keeping as quiet and still as possible, although it had been extremely painful. He'd been brought up to keep a stiff upper lip, as due his family's status; never to show any emotion that might be construed as weakness or display his true feelings. He blamed the tears stinging his eyes upon his fevered state, and was going to make a joke about his inability to even stay sitting up without Merlin's help, but found he could not speak.

"He should really have oral antibiotics too, but they're so closely monitored I didn't dare take any." Gwen finished off as Merlin carefully put Arthur's shirt and jumper back on then helped him lie down.

Shortages of many items had befallen the whole of Europe as the war dragged on and on, disrupting all manner of industries and business's. The increased demand for materials directly needed in the war effort further compromised supplies. Antibiotics were particularly scarce and virtually impossible for civilians to get hold of. Hospitals had clamped down tightly on their usage; every tablet or vial having to be accounted for. It was only because of Gwen's ingenuity and fast thinking that she'd managed to acquire the sulphonamide powder.

When they were sure Arthur was asleep, Gwen and Merlin spoke quietly in their own language. Sensing Gwen's anger at Arthur's condition, Merlin tried to explain the situation.

"I know he's not in a good way Gwen. Medical help was meant to come days ago, but... Will was going to..." he finished lamely.

Gwen was seething but not at Merlin.

"Oh Merlin," she grabbed his hand, "I'm not angry at you. It's this war. So many people are being hurt or killed. I just can't see when it will end." She finished angrily, quickly wiping tears of frustration from her eyes.

Merlin squeezed her hand back and smiled weakly in an attempt to comfort her, not knowing what to say.

Gwen composed herself before adding, "I'll have to come back tomorrow to change the bandages. I'm not sure what time."

"What should I do for him?" Merlin asked as Gwen made to leave.

"Make sure he has plenty of fluids and keep him warm. He probably won't want to eat yet, not that you've got much." She glanced around while she spoke, not liking the conditions at all.

"Thanks for coming Gwen. I didn't know who else to turn to."

"I'm glad you trust me enough to ask." Gwen peered at Merlin closely before continuing, "Gaius would be proud of you."

Merlin smiled despite the wretchedness of the situation, the thought of his Great Uncle's approval warming his heart.

"You think so?" he ducked his head away from her scrutiny. "There's a long way to go yet before he's safe. I just hope I'm good enough."

"It seems like you were a school kid wagging class just a short while ago. Now you're so grown up Merlin. Are you sure you can handle this?"

Merlin smile vanished and he seemed to age 10 years, as a serious, worried expression replaced it.

"No, not at all. But I have to try Gwen. He hasn't got anyone else and I don't know who I can trust. If a resistance member betrayed Will, no-one around here is safe." Merlin reasoned out loud.

"I might know somebody from over the river who could..." she started then stopped, not wanting to give Merlin false hope."I'll see what I can turn up Merlin. Just stay strong okay?"

**A/N; Thanks for reading. I hope the story isn't too slow paced. I don't know how some of the fanfic writer's manage to put so much action into their chapters. Please let me know what you think.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N; Special thanks to self confessed WW2 geek Aldryne21 for the encouragement! The experiene of writing a historical AU has been remarkably informative for me as I have attempted to research the topics in an effort to stick to** **the real** **events going in in Europe and particularily Holland in late 1944/early1945.  
I apologize for any inacuracies!**

Over the next few days Merlin stayed with Arthur as much as he could without his absence going noticed at home. Gwen visited daily as she had promised to do, changing Arthur's dressings and checking on his progress.

Throughout the first 48 hours, pain and fever induced nightmares prevented Arthur from getting the solid, restful sleep his body so badly needed. Time and time again he woke up screaming or crying as terrors plagued his dreams. Merlin wasn't sure how much of the nightmares'content was based on memories and how much was an invention of Arthur's deranged mind. Among the most distinguishable of the things he heard Arthur speak, were the names Percy, Lance and Morgana.

During the evening of the second day, Merlin noticed some improvement; the signs of fever finally began to dissipate and Arthur seemed to be more aware of his immediate surroundings. A few hours later he began asking for food and water.

There were further indications that Arthur was recovering well and thinking of things beyond mere survival, shortly after Guinevere left after her third visitation.

"So Merlin. How long have you known Gwen?

"Oh. I met her maybe four years ago. When she used to work with my Great Uncle." Merlin answered, no idea where the conversation was heading.

"Right. So is she your... you know?

"What?" Merlin noted the slight smirk on Arthur's face and suddenly the penny dropped.

"Oh no. No we're just friends." Merlin stammered, feeling the skin of his face turn hot and red.

"I'm not...I mean...well girls just aren't..." Merlin blathered. How could he explain to Arthur that no girl in their right mind would want to be lumbered with a freak-loser like him? That he was the village basket case and doomed forever to be the object of people's derision?

He kept his head down as he felt the great weight of his self loathing descending again.

Arthur studied Merlin, not really understanding what was going on. He squinted at the young man, who appeared to be trying to shrivel into himself in an attempt to escape.

"Ok. Just asking." Arthur backed off, not sure how to read Merlin's obvious discomfort. Self esteem issues were certainly not something that he was familiar enough with to recognize in another. "She is pretty though isn't she?

"Yeah, she is." Some of Merlin's embarrassment faded slightly as he felt Arthur's attentions shift. Merlin's shoulders relaxed a little and his face lit up as he put two and two together, making five.

"Do you like Gwen?

"What? No. I mean she's lovely, but that's not what I meant." Arthur shook his head slightly, an awkward half smile on his face.

"Oh."

Arthur stared off into the middle distance. "I'm sort of engaged actually. It's unofficial but our fathers have a sort of... expectation."

"That sounds...weird." Merlin's face contorted in confusion.

"Mmmm, I suppose it does doesn't it?" Arthur replied, brows furrowed in thought. "She's quite nice really. Her name's Elena. My father has certain requirements of me; one of which is to marry someone of the right class."

Merlin looked equal parts puzzled and horrified. "Right. So you don't love her then?"

"I don't really know. I don't think so." Arthur had not been a man for self introspection, up till now anyway.

"But you'd commit the rest of your life to her, for the sake of your father's approval?"

When was alone again with nothing much to do but think, Merlin's observations set off a train of thinking that Arthur had not experienced very often before.

So far in his life he had always done what was expected of him. But had it brought him personal happiness and satisfaction or did he do things merely because his father wanted him too? When he was a child, his life had evolved around gaining parental approval. If his father was pleased with his achievements, so was he. As he got a little older he continued to move along the life path Uther had mapped out for him, pushing aside any personal misgivings or wishes. Actually, it was only recently that he dared stray at all from the edict of Uther Pendragon and it had taken every ounce of his resolve to do so.

Arthur's experience of war had changed him in many ways. His priorities and values had shifted, shaped inexorably by the tragedies and horror he had lived through. Just how much would he be willing to sacrifice of his own dreams and beliefs in the future to keep his father happy?

* * *

In an effort to raise Arthur's spirits, Merlin brought his little crystal set radio along to the hide-out in the very early hours of the fourth day Arthur was there. The Englishman had been pestering him for war updates and the building agitation at his continued ignorance was palpable.

He'd confessed to Merlin his guilt at the deaths of Lancelot and Percival, the other two pilots in his squadron, and would not listen to any attempt Merlin made to comfort him. Arthur couldn't bear the thought that they'd died for nothing and desperately needed to hear news of Allied progress that could be attributed, at least partially, to all their efforts at subterfuge.

Cycling around with the forbidden object was risky, but Merlin's resolve to help Arthur out weighed the danger.

Physical occupation was not the only way the German's displayed their domination and control over the countries they conquered. Preventing communication, keeping the populace ignorant and halting the dissemination of knowledge by closing local newspapers and banning radio stations from broadcasting was instituted very early on during the occupation process.

At first radio signals were jammed and the Dutch people were banned from listening to foreign broadcasts but as time went by and stronger methods were needed. By May in 1943, they resorted to confiscation of all the radios in Merlin's village (and all across the country).

Gaius had always espoused freedom of information and the value of knowledge, but it never really impacted on Merlin's consciousness until the Nazi's began their control.

In a silent show of retaliation, Merlin had built his own crystal set after his mothers radio was taken, (as had many of the villagers) which he kept hidden in an old biscuit tin, hidden under a loose floorboard. Hunith and he often took turns listening via the headphones to the crackly tones of Radio Orange, broadcast from London by the exiled Dutch Government and Royals.

The joy they'd felt when they heard that Paris had been liberated last September, followed soon after by Belgium and the southern parts of Holland, had improved their morale immeasurably. Although much of Holland remained occupied and struggling for survival, the news broadcasts had shown them what was possible and given them the strength and determination they now called upon to get them through this harshest of winters. It was this hope and optimism that Merlin wanted to bring Arthur as he handed over his precious radio.

"The sound quality isn't too good, but it picks up the BBC signal." Merlin passed the head set over to Arthur, who was staring in amazement at the miserable looking contraption.

"Merlin. This is brilliant!" declared Arthur, a huge smile lighting up his face. "Did you build it yourself?"

Merlin nodded self consciously, bathing in Arthur's delight; his smile so sincere and joyful that he seemed almost to radiate a golden warmth.

* * *

The closest call of discovery yet, happened as Merlin inadvertently met up with Gwen after her stint at the hospital that day. It was just approaching darkness (only around 4pm at this time of year) as Merlin entered Degenaar Woods when he recognized the caped figure not far in front of him.

He shouted out her name to gain her attention, breath clouding in the frigid air in front of him.

"Merlin, you gave me a fright!" Gwen replied as Merlin caught up to her. She'd almost fallen from her bike when she'd realized somebody was behind her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." Merlin answered shyly, noticing Gwen's breathing was heavier than it should be and the hand she held to her chest.

They were both on their well used bicycles, the main form of transportation available to them and together they resumed their journey along the treacherously icy path. Just as Gwen's heart had settled again down to its normal rate, the presence of troopers ahead caused another burst of adrenaline to flood her body. Lights and voices carried their way through the still air, carrying the terror of discovery with them.

"Quick, over here." Guinevere whispered harshly, dragging her bike into a thick copse of trees.

Merlin wasted no time in following as the memory of him and Arthur hiding in the ditch just a number of days ago, returned unbidden. Pressing himself into the wet, cold surface of the fir trees next to Gwen in an effort to stay hidden, Merlin prayed for the same degree of success.

When one of the strong torch lights of the patrol swept across the ground in front of them and over the copse of trees, revealing everything in its harsh, relentless beam, both young people knew they were out of luck.

Merlin and Gwen fully understood the risk they were undertaking by harbouring a member of the enemy forces; an immediate death sentence.

"Merlin, come here," Gwen hissed urgently, before grasping him by both arms and pulling him toward her. "Kiss me. Now Merlin!"

Panic gripped Merlin momentarily as he struggled to work out what was going on. Gwen continued pulling him closer and he had little choice but to respond as he felt her breath upon his face and her hand at the nape of his neck. As their lips met Merlin couldn't help but think what an inopportune time it was for him to have his first real kiss.

A sniggering from behind and a light shone directly at their faces caused Gwen to push Merlin away. He turned to face the patrol but was too blinded to see what was going on.

"I saw you hanging around the hospital the other day. Now I know why!" A soldier named Eichmann replied, sneering suggestively. More sniggering ensued.

A shout from another soldier back on the main path, caused the torch to veer away slightly.

"It's the mental kid Sir- the one who has fits, with a nurse." Eichmann shouted back to the query.

For once, Merlin was grateful his affliction rendered him the village loser and thus not taken seriously. (By native and non native alike.)

"Come on Heinz, let's go. It's bloody freezing out here. Leave them to get whatever pleasure they can. Poor bastards." The voice from the road groaned impatiently.

"Honey, if you ever feel like a real man, you know where I'll be." Eichmann gave Gwen a mock salute before stalking off.

When the patrol marched off into the darkness, Merlin felt his knees give out. He was shaking all over and couldn't seem to catch his breath. Gwen wasn't faring much better.

"That was..." Merlin started.

"Yes. Too close." Gwen finished off for him.

"I think we better just sit here for a second." His voice sounded weak and uneven in his ears. That Eichmann was right; he was a bloody wimp. He knew now was not the time to indulge in self introspection but he couldn't help it. Perhaps it was the 'fake' kiss that reminded him of all his inadequacies, or maybe it was because he'd thought he was going to die. Either way, he felt sick to his stomach.

"Come on Merlin," Gwen spoke softly to him and helped him up. "Arthur needs us."

Supporting each other, they made it to the hide out but Merlin was still not feeling great by the time they arrived. His head had started to ache and his eyes kept twitching of their own accord.

Gwen whistled the three toned warning signal as they got within five metres then lifted the trap door to descend shortly after. As Merlin followed and shut the hatch down behind him a severe, blinding dizziness overtook him and after hitting the ground hard enough to bruise, he was aware of nothing more for a number of minutes.

**A/N; I hope the mix of human drama and historical fact worked ok and was not too boring.  
Also, I'm sorry Merlin keeps thinking badly about himself when we all know what an absolute gem he is!**


	11. Chapter 11

"Merlin!" Arthur cried out in distress as the young man hit the ground, landing on his side and convulsing violently.

Gwen's training and experience overruled her emotions as she realised what was happening, moving things out of his reach or cushioning likely impact sites with bedding and clothing to prevent him from hurting himself.

"What the hell's happening to him?" Arthur's worried voice came from behind her.

"He's an epileptic Arthur. We almost got caught on the way here and I think the stress must have brought on a seizure." Her eyes did not leave Merlin's body as his muscles continued to spasm crazily, their action driven by the wild explosion of electrical activity within his brain. The whites of his eyes were showing under his partially closed eyelids and his head rocked forward and back alarmingly.

"Can we stop it Guinevere? Does he know what's happening?" Arthur's first instinct was to jump in and take action. Having to watch on helplessly was killing him.

"All we can do is make sure he doesn't hurt himself on anything or choke on his own tongue. We'll just have to wait for the fit to pass."

"Bloody hell." Arthur uttered under his breath. He'd seen plenty of horrible things during his active service but had never become desensitized to the suffering of another human. Furthermore there was no uniform to render this victim anonymous; this was a person he knew and who'd gone out of his way to help Arthur.

After a number of minutes the convulsions eased a little, allowing Gwen to check Merlin's vital signs.

"Can you help me move him onto the bed? I think the seizure is nearly over but he'll need to rest afterwards."

Together they moved Merlin onto the meagre pile of bedding and Gwen watched as Arthur tenderly placed a blanket over him. There were still some twitches in his limbs, but his eyes were closed as though in sleep.

"He's had these fits before then hasn't he?" Arthur looked over at Gwen from where he sat beside Merlin. "That's why he's not in the army or the resistance isn't it?"

"Yes. I've never seen him fit before, but I knew of his condition. He's probably had it since he was born."

Arthur didn't know what to say. These people were already dealing with occupation and all the losses of freedom that entailed, the harshest winter Europe had suffered in decades and crippling food shortages due to the ongoing struggles in the south. The further hardship of an unpleasant and serious medical condition was a burden beyond imagining.

Gwen saw Arthur's horrified expression as he looked down at Merlin, mistakenly interpreting it as one of repulsion or disgust at what he'd just witnessed.

"Merlin has a very low opinion of himself because of his illness. Everyone around here thinks he's simple or less than human, and he knows it. Please, don't think any less of him Arthur."

"I'm not a complete prat Gwen!" Arthur looked indignantly at Guinevere before calming down and returning his gaze to Merlin. "From what I've seen, he's very capable. I'd be pushing up daisies by now, if not for him."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to judge you. It's just, he's so used to being made to think he's useless and it's not true! The presence of war has only intensified people's feelings and caused Merlin to feel even worse." Gwen's strong feelings on the matter were reflected in her increasing anger as she spoke.

Arthur lifted his head to watch, taken aback somewhat by the passion in Gwen's voice.

"Mmm." Merlin's weak mumbling interrupted Arthur's musings, drawing his attention again.

"I think he's waking." Gwen motioned for him to move aside so she could take his place. As he gave her some space he spied Merlin's woollen hat lying in on the ground near the entry steps and carefully picked it up from where it lay in the dirt.

Merlin mumbled a few more incoherent words and tried to sit up. His eyes were only partially open and he was still quite disorientated.

"Merlin, just lie still for a minute. You've had a fit but everything's fine. Just rest." Gwen gently reassured him.

"No. No. I can't have. Arthur can't know Gwen!" Merlin rambled at her, aware enough to be embarrassed but not enough to remember where he was (and that Arthur was very definitely present!).

Gwen and Arthur exchanged worried glances as Gwen tried to calm Merlin but he remained agitated and refused to lie down.

"Calm down Merlin, please!" Gwen soothed.

Arthur could see that Merlin was not fully 'with it' yet. His eyes looked glazed and tearful and he couldn't seem to keep still; as though tiny jolts of neural activity, leftover after the seizure, were still occurring.

When Gwen failed to get through to Merlin after another few minutes, she glanced back at Arthur. He wasn't sure if she was asking for help or wanted him to disappear, not that he could've anyway.

"Merlin," Arthur knelt down to get into his line of sight. "Merlin, just breathe deeply. You're ok now." He said in what he thought was a calm, quiet manner but the response was very far from what he'd hoped.

Merlin brought his gaze unsteadily toward Arthur, grimacing as he struggled to focus. As realisation dawned, his face fell and he shook his head pathetically, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks.

"I didn't want you to see what I am!" he cried, dragging himself as far away from Arthur and Gwen as he could, then curling up against the wall with his head buried in his knees.

Arthur exhaled in frustration then approached as close as he dared to the shattered boy.

"Merlin. Don't think like that. It's just an illness."Arthur began unsurely. Speeches to unify his troops and lift morale he could do, but this personal stuff, was unknown territory.

"I know what you are Merlin. Guinevere told me about your epilepsy and I know life's not easy for you." His eyes bore into the top of Merlin's head as the boy remained enclosed in his own walls, trying desperately to hold on to the shreds of dignity he still had.

"I don't blame you if you never want to see me again. I'm useless." Merlin small voice replied tearily.

"No Merlin, that's not true. Despite all the hardships you have to face, you're still here, fighting as best you can. You may not be able to see it yourself Merlin, but in my eyes that makes you a very brave, capable person. Just think what you did for me Merlin"

As he finished speaking, Merlin slowly lifted his face from where it was hidden.

"You have to admit it," Arthur continued, head slightly cocked to one side, "I'd be dead, if it wasn't for you."

Behind them, Guinevere wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled.

"I suppose," Merlin replied weakly, voice still muffled partially by his knees.

"You suppose?" Arthur repeated, raising his eyebrows in mock indignation and quirking one side of his mouth into a smile.

"So, you still trust me to help you then?" Merlin asked tentatively, face raised to meet Arthur's.

"Of course he does Merlin," Gwen spoke up. "You need to trust yourself too."

Arthur nodded his agreement as Merlin's eyes went to Gwen then back to him.

"She's right Merlin." Arthur concurred; pale blue eyes earnestly meeting Merlin's tear stained, forlorn face.

A small, watery small lit up Merlin's face as he accepted that they really meant what they said.

All his life he'd hated himself, never knowing when he was going to ruin everything with one of his turns. Always remaining an outsider and never allowing anyone to get too close for fear that they'd be repulsed when they knew the truth. Not being able to join the army and not being wanted by the Germans as a labourer had marked him out as a coward, as well as a loser, further damaging his evaluation of himself. The notion that someone like Arthur considered him worthy of his trust and accepted him for what he was (despite, or including the epilepsy) resembled seeing a chink of light in the darkness. He was drawn to the warmth and happiness it produced within him and the unfamiliar feeling of self belief blossomed under its rays.

* * *

A little over half an hour later Gwen stood to leave. She was expected at old Mrs Booekers, to check on her ulcers and knew her absence would be missed.

"Are you sure you'll be alright to get home on your own Merlin?" she checked, again, before giving his arm a squeeze.

Arthur got up and went with her to the hatchway, leaving Merlin to finish warming some vegetable broth. It was tasteless and probably not very nutritious but at least it was warming.

As she was about to open the hatchway she turned back to Arthur.

"I didn't want to say anything until there were definite plans, but there are people working on a way to get you out of occupied Holland Arthur. It will take a little more time, but don't give up hope okay?"

"What? Guinevere wait! Please tell me what you know," he asked in desperation, eyes wide open in shock.

"I don't know any more yet. I'll tell you more as soon as I know." She reassured them before turning to leave.

Arthur inhaled deeply as he looked back into the small, clay walled cavern he's called 'home' for the past five days. Since his Spitfire was hit by enemy fire his main thoughts had been on survival and escape. Now faced with a chance at freedom there was no way he'd let it slip by, no matter what risks were involved. He needed to know more though, before fully committing.

"Have you heard about this Merlin?" he asked as the young man handed him a mug of broth.

"No, but she wouldn't say that if it wasn't true."

Arthur nodded, staring into his drink, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Mmm. Do you have any ideas though?" Arthur pushed for more information.

"No I don't. I'll talk to her tomorrow okay?" Merlin answered. He appreciated Arthur's desperation to get out of danger and return home but he really had no idea who Gwen was in contact with or what she meant. Everybody knew that supplies, mainly food, was brought into their village from the unoccupied territories, despite the strict control the German's tried to maintain. He'd never asked questions about how it happened though, as it was far safer to be ignorant. Maybe it was about time he learned.

**A/N: Not a very long chapter I know, but I think the subject required its own section.  
I am aware that Arthur seems perhaps a little too kind and considerate than we are used to seeing, but that probably reflects how I want him to be with Merlin.  
Also, I know many people dislike Gwen and don't want her to 'come between' Merlin and Arthur, (and I am a little worried about how the whole set up of King, manservant plus Queen will be played out in Series 5 myself) but she does have a role in this story. I tried to keep her in the background though when Arthur and Merlin are talking about Merlin's illness, because I think this issue had to be resolved between just the two of them.  
More action next chapter, I promise.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N; Holland's monarch at the time the story is set (late1944, early1945) is one Queem Wilhelmina. She took refuge in England, along with many of Europes royals and governments. Winston Churchill once remarked that she was the 'only man' amongst them.  
Merlin continues to fight his inner demons in this chapter. He seems to do alot of that doesn't he?  
On with the story.**

When Merlin arrived home the night of his seizure in front of Arthur and Gwen, he was nervous. It was nearly midnight and he'd told his mother he was only going out for an hour or two; but that was some nine hours ago.

Sure enough, as he came in the front door, he saw the lamp still on in the kitchen and heard the legs of a chair scrape across the floor followed by footsteps heading his way.

"Merlin, I've been worried sick!" Hunith started as she walked towards him, wringing a dish cloth in her hands.

"I'm sorry Mum. I didn't mean to be away so long." He took off his coat, hat and mittens, watching her the whole time. "My bike..." he started the story he'd invented on the way home, about the chain coming off, but he couldn't go through with the lie. It was bad enough making her worry so much, without lying to her as well.

"Oh Merlin. It's after curfew. If you'd been caught." Merlin could tell from his mother's tone and the worn-out look on her face that she wasn't really angry, despite her words of admonishment- just beside herself with worry. "You promised me when Will died that you'd be home on time."

As he got closer, he could see how close she was to tears. Guilt pierced his heart, "I know. I'm sorry mum."

Hunith stroked her son's cheek, relieved to have him safely home again. "So where have you been then?"

Merlin's mouth opened and closed as he contemplated what he should tell her. "Well, the truth is...I didn't want to tell you but... I was with some friends and I sort of ... had another seizure."

Hunith's face crumpled in anguish as he blurted out his explanation.

"It's no big deal. Gwen was there and she made sure I was alright," he rushed on, trying in vain to play down the incident.

"Gwen? Is that the nurse who used to work with Gaius? Where did you meet up with her?"

"Mum," he groaned, "We just ran into each other that's all. She had just finished a shift and I happened to be riding past as she came out of the hospital."

Hunith backed off a little, inhaling deeply as she thought over what her son had told her. Gwen was a lovely young lady, and it was only natural that a boy of Merlin's age would want to have friends. It didn't stop her from worrying about him though.

"You know how I am afterwards; Gwen wouldn't let me leave when I was still disoriented and vague, so I just rested for a few hours." Merlin tried to convince himself that it was kind of the truth. Besides, he certainly couldn't let his mother know where he really was.

Hunith nodded, "She always did have a good head on her shoulders."

Merlin flopped down into a chair at the kitchen table, feeling exhausted by the evening's events.

"Mum?" he began cagily as Hunith took a seat opposite him. "What do you think my father would think of me?"

Hunith was a little taken aback at the sudden change in topics, wondering what had brought this train of thought into her son's mind.

Hunith had met Merlin's father when she lived in the city of Utrecht. They were both very young and had fallen in love over the course of a long, lazy summer. Balinor had had a difficult childhood and was a very troubled youth. Hunith new he suffered from depression when she met him but her kindness and love seemed to help him fight back the demons. When she'd told him she was pregnant however, it had been too much for the young man and he had fled, leaving a note explaining that he wasn't good enough for her and would only fail their unborn child.

"Well," she paused to gather her thoughts, "I'm sure he'd love you very deeply."

"Even though I've got this... disease?" His big blue eyes seem to plead with longing, breaking something in her heart.

"Of course." She stated with all the conviction she could summon.

Since Merlin had been old enough to ask, she had told him why his father wasn't around and even though he didn't understand till he was much older, she's always assured him that he shouldn't feel any guilt. If Balinor chose not to live with them, it was his failing, not an unborn babes'.

Merlin stared down at the table top. "Mum, do you think I'll ever be normal?"

"You are normal Merlin. Why would you say that?" She reached over the table and clasped his hands in her own. "Merlin, once this wretched war is over and people aren't so paranoid and on edge, things will get better. I know it's hard for you living here, but we can't do anything while things are like they are. When our part of Holland is free and things go back to how they should be, we can go to a big hospital and have you assessed properly for the most suitable type of medication."

"I'm just so sick of feeling like an outsider all the time; like some sort of freak."

"Oh Merlin," Hunith came around the table to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "You are not a freak. Don't ever think that Merlin. It is your differences that make you so special and precious. If someone cares enough about you Merlin, they'll see past a medical condition to the kind, selfless, intelligent, sweet person underneath."

"Yeah right." Merlin humphed awkwardly. "You're my mum; you've got to say that."

"You'll find your place my son. It just takes time."

* * *

The next day it snowed almost all morning and Hunith would not let Merlin go out of the house. As early afternoon rolled around the snow gradually eased but was replaced by a thick, cold mist which drenched everything with its clinging, cold dampness.

Merlin sat at his window, staring towards the forest and Arthur, not that he could actually see more than 15 metres away. He'd felt cold all day but it must be nothing compared to how Arthur was coping in the tiny underground hole he was presently residing in.

A sudden tremor of cold passed over his body, 'someone was walking over his grave' as the saying goes. Closing his eyes, Merlin concentrated fiercely on combating the cold; picturing a golden glow of warm air surrounding his body, infusing it with a gentle, comforting heat. He imagined the light working it's magic, driving back the cold and numbness, bringing life back into frozen, chill blained fingers and cramped muscles.

Merlin sighed and praised himself on the power of his mind to trick his body; he could swear he really did feel warmer, though of course it must have been his imagination. Probably some sort of placebo effect.

Opening his eyes to look down at himself, Merlin caught his reflection in the window and was stunned to note that his eyes appeared to be glowing amber. He jumped up sharply but when he rushed to look at his reflection in the small mirror inside his wardrobe, his eyes were the same cerulean blue that always been. Must have been a trick of the light.

* * *

The severe snowfall had dropped the air temperature even further outside and Arthur was feeling the effects. He had donned every item of clothing he could and wrapped himself up in all the bedding available, but the relentless cold still managed to pierce him with its cruel tendrils. His nose, ears, fingers and toes were beginning to ache with the deep chill and his body shivered violently. Some of his finger tips had even turned blue and felt numb. When he began to exercise in an attempt to create body heat, he couldn't seem to coordinate his movements very well and had an overwhelming desire just to curl into a ball and sleep.

As a pilot he had been educated about the dangers of flying at high altitude; one of which was the extreme low temperatures, and he recognized the signs of mild to moderate hypothermia in the symptoms he was suffering.

His supply of fuel for the tiny burner that he warmed his food on, was very limited. He'd rationed himself to using it only twice a day as Merlin had told him it would be almost impossible to obtain more fuel, without resorting to stealing. As the chill settled deep into his bones and he felt the numbness spreading further through his limbs, fear for his health overrode the self imposed rule and he set the small amount of broth left, to warm over the meagre flames.

Once the liquid was warmed he clutched the mug in his hands and sipped slowly, closing his eyes and drawing in every ounce of heat he could from the liquid. He knew the cold was beginning to effect his mind too because as he swallowed, he felt a blissful, pure warmth encase him completely, offering up its heat to the being at its centre. Arthur couldn't remember learning anything about this sort of illusionary symptom but it must have been a sign that his hypothermia was worsening.

His freezing body instinctively tried to absorb as much of the life giving heat as it could and Arthur stopped fighting his confused mind, slowly relaxing into the undeniably pleasant feeling. The golden warmth eased its way deeper and deeper, allowing the blood to flow into his extremities again and his muscles to halt their shivering action as they no longer needed to generate their own heat.

Hours later, Arthur still felt warm despite the below freezing conditions all around him. He knew he was supposed to stay awake and not give in to the cold but it was becoming too difficult. The lack of food, previous illness and injury plus the extra energy expenditure required in the extreme conditions had taken its toll and he drifted into sleep, too exhausted to even question the strange phenomenon he was experiencing.

* * *

The winter of 1944-1945 was known by those living in areas of Holland that had yet to be liberated as the 'Hunger Winter'. The German blockade of supplies, the destruction of farmland and agricultural businesses by wartime activities, the harshest winter conditions for several years and the damage sustained to bridges and roads all contributed to severely limit the delivery of supplies around the country; most notably food. A famine resulted, which was particularly severe in the cities of the western part of the Holland and resulted in the deaths of over 20,000 people.

Country people fared slightly better than their urban counterparts as they were still able to grow edible plants and raise some animals. Furthermore, the smuggling of supplies into the provincial areas continued; something which the tight policing and greater German presence in the cities prevented. It was still a very risky business though and demanded incredible bravery, impeccable planning, and a network of willing helpers to be successful. A small number of individuals in the resistance became specialized in the movement of supplies around the country, the presence of family and friends in the effected zones providing all the motivation they needed for success.

* * *

The day following the snowstorm, Gwen made the journey to Degalaar Woods again, this time between her morning and afternoon shifts. She had more some details for Arthur regarding the escape plan and knew he'd be waiting with baited breath.

"I have a brother who fled when all the men were being taken away to labour camps. He didn't abandon us though, he's part of a group in the resistance that helps feed the people; illegally getting food from across the Rhine them distributing it to those who need it most. He's coming up here next week and if you're willing to attempt it, they will try and get you out via the same route."

Arthur stared at her as she delivered the news; brow furrowed as his tactical mind took over, evaluating the risks involved. He was desperate to escape but there was no point jumping into an attempt that was doomed to fail. It would take a day or two to even get to the Rhine, the other side of which was allied territory. He needed to weigh up the chances of being caught during the trip versus the payoff of getting to safety.

"The Rhine's many miles away. How do they stay undetected so long?" Someone must have been caught at some stage, Arthur surmised.

"I don't know any details. Elyan says the less I know the better. I imagine by not using main roads, travelling at night and stopping at safe houses along the way." Many people in the country did their bit to defy the Germans; offering their properties as a place of temporary refuge for resistance members, refugees and other evaders, despite the huge risks involved to themselves.

"Your brother's done this trip before then?"

Gwen nodded, "Many times. It's risky but I guess it's his way of fighting the Nazi's."

"Ok. Tell me more." Arthur urged her.

"There's a drop point about 6 km from here. You have to be there to meet them at exactly the right time, with the right passwords. Merlin will be able to take you to the spot."

Arthur backed off from the idea. He'd already asked way too much of the boy and had no right to expect him to continue putting his life on the line on his behalf.

"No, I won't ask that of Merlin." Arthur shook his head vehemently. "I'll go on my own."

Gwen lifted her eyebrows, "I think you'll probably need him. It's in the middle of a thick forest in the dead of night and he's familiar enough with the place to find it."

"I can remember a set of directions Guinevere," he answered indignantly. "I've flown for hundreds of miles at a time without getting lost; surely I can manage 6 km." He finished off, trying to convince both himself and her.

Gwen pursed her lips at his stubbornness. "Ok, but don't endanger other people because of your own pride."

Arthur clenched his jaw muscles, a little hurt by her statement but realizing there may be some truth to it too.

* * *

Hunith was barely out the door before Merlin stuffed whatever food he could find into a bag and set off. Cycling along the slippery pathway of Degelaar Woods surrounded by snow laden fir trees pressing in at him from each side, Merlin felt as weighed down as the dark slender branches that dominated his field of vision. This would be the first time he'd seen and spoken to Arthur since the fit, and he was nervous how it would go. Sure, Arthur had been very accepting and kind at the time, but what about now he'd had time to think. Would he really want such a liability involved with him?

He tried to brace himself for the inevitable signs of rejection now that Arthur knew his secret. Long ago he'd given up expecting anything more and had almost convinced himself that he was probably better off by himself anyway.

The only one of his peers to ever show him acceptance and friendship was dead, and Merlin swallowed to hold back the tears as he relived the events of Will's death again. What if he'd not gone to the garage? Would Will have had more warning that his cover was blown? What if Merlin had seen the soldiers earlier and been able to shout out a warning? And what about his 'magic'? Where had that been when he needed it most?

Merlin still hadn't been able to face Mr Dempsie. His mother had checked on their neighbour a few times and come back tearful and quiet on each occasion.

"That poor lonely man," she'd whispered into Merlin's hair as she held him tight, warding off the pain and suffering that had settled on her skin during the visit next door. "He's got no real reason to even keep going now."

* * *

"So, how are you?" Arthur asked awkwardly once he'd hastily eaten some of Merlin's offerings of cold potatoes and a tub of boiled cabbage.

"Okay," Merlin shrugged, eyes on his feet as he sat next to Arthur on a wooden plank on the ground.

"That was pretty scary stuff Merlin." Arthur had turned to face the younger man, but was not getting much of a response.

"I'm sorry you had to see it." Merlin spoke quietly. _I really wish you hadn't seen me looking so revolting and weak and ugly._

Arthur swallowed the last of the potato. "Well, I'm glad Gwen was here. At least one of us knew what to do."

Merlin scuffed the ground with the toes of his boots and fought back the lump that had formed in his throat, waiting for Arthur to push him away.

"Does it hurt? When you have a seizure I mean. Not that it's any of my business but if it happens again I'd like to know what you go through." Arthur was talking about his hideous affliction like it was something ordinary.

Merlin looked up briefly, squinting at Arthur, unable to figure out just what he was getting at.

"No. I can't really feel anything," he answered non committaly, not wanting to give away much till he knew where he stood.

"That's something I suppose. It can't be easy though." Arthur surveyed the dark haired boy beside him, at a loss to how such a frail looking creature could take on so much.

"You're a lot stronger than you look aren't you?"

Merlin looked up at him again. "What do you mean?"

Arthur shrugged and leaned back against the wall. "Well, you look like a gust of wind could blow you over, but here you are, risking your neck on a daily basis for a complete stranger."

Noticing that Merlin continued to look confused Arthur silently cursed his lack of clarity. He'd always found talking about his feelings very difficult. The guys in the Air Force certainly didn't; it was _stiff upper lip and keep calm and carry on_, but something about this boy was different.

"I mean, a lesser man would've just left me there in the tree and slunk off to the safety and warmth of their own home. But you chose to get involved, even though you've got all this," Arthur waved his right hand around to accompany his words, "this stuff to deal with already."

"Neither Will or I could have walked away and left you to be shot Arthur." Merlin replied, earnest eyes meeting Arthur's. "And if by 'all this stuff' you mean my epilepsy, it doesn't mean I'm totally useless." He dropped his eyes adding much more quietly, "I hope."

"What do you think I've been trying to say, you idiot!" an exasperated Arthur retorted good naturally, his face breaking into a smile. Merlin found himself starting to smile in response as he finally began to accept that Arthur was offering words of praise. A punch in the upper arm halted his joy momentarily, before he realized it was the Englishman's odd way of showing camaraderie.

"That hurt," he replied grinning, rubbing at his arm ruefully and letting the pleasant feelings sink through him.

"Guinevere was here earlier." Arthur spoke again after a few minutes of silence. "There's some sort of plan forming to get me back over allied lines. And the thing is I'm probably going to need your help Merlin."

Merlin's eyes seem to get even bigger as he listened intently to Arthur's words. He'd pretty much convinced himself that Arthur would want nothing more to do with him so hearing this show of faith was like a life line to a drowning man. A warm, happy feeling coiled deep in his belly then slowly furled outwards, spreading its rays of hope around his entire body.

"I've no right to expect any more from you, but what do you say? If you want out, I'd understand completely," Arthur added quickly, quirking his head to the side and shrugging. "No pressure then?" Merlin smirked over at him before huffing out a small laugh. "Of course I'll help!"

**A/N: I hope the scene where Merlin manages to magically warm Arthur wasn't too cheesy! Clearly Arthur couldn't have a fire going (patrols would see smoke) or any sort of artificial heating (severe fuel shortages) and I don't think it realistic for him to survive the below freezing temp., so I came up with this solution.  
Did anyone watch the Queen's Diamond Jubillee - did you hear the crowd shouting out 'God save the Queen' when she arrived at Westminster Abbey? Wow. I couldn't help but thinking of SE04Ep03, at Arthur's coronation, when all where shouting 'God save the King".**


	13. Chapter 13

Final confirmation of details for the pickup came through on Saturday. A vehicle driven by Gwen's brother and probably one other resistance member would be at the WW1 shrine, at the far eastern boundary of Degelaar Woods at 2am in the early hours of Monday morning. They would not wait for more than a minute at the designated pick up point and would require a series of coded sentences to be exchanged before they accepted anyone on board. If there were any signs that the mission was in danger of discovery, it was every man for himself.

* * *

Arthur's ankle was still tender and not yet at full strength, so Merlin decided to allow more time than usual to get to the rendezvous. He had brought along Will's bicycle for Arthur to ride and he thought his old friend would be honoured by the notion that his trusty old set of wheels was being employed in defying the enemy.

It was Arthur's first time out in the open air for many days and he stood still, gazing up at the wide expanse of dark sky above him in awe when they first emerged from the close confines of the ruined mine shaft. The silver crescent of the moon illuminated the tree tops and reflected off the snow covered branches and ground, casting a bluish light onto the anxious travellers. It wasn't strong enough to penetrate the shadows created by the overhanging branches however and more than once Merlin startled as he thought he saw a movement in the corner of his eye within their black depths.

With less than half a kilometre left till they reached their destination, the men discarded their bikes, leaving them hidden under layers and layers of foliage to be retrieved by Merlin later. (Assuming everything went to plan.)

"So far so good then?" Merlin commented nervously as they continued on foot. The pair had exchanged very few words so far, both too caught up in their own worries and nervousness, so Merlin's voice seemed far too loud in the silent forest.

"Mmmm, let's hope it stays that way." Arthur answered, voice subdued and hushed.

They should have known it was too good to be true.

The Nazi patrol seemed to come out of nowhere and was heading straight toward them along the north-south road. They saw the lights of the hand held torches first, and then heard fragments of voices and the sound of jackboots crunching on the frozen gravel. Merlin crouched low and Arthur swore under his breath as he joined him, taking cover behind a fallen tree. The timing of the German's couldn't have been worse, the resistance truck they were meeting was due any minute and Merlin wondered for a second if perhaps they'd been betrayed. He'd never found out how Will's cover was blown, so Nazi informants could still be in their midst.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Merlin and Arthur at this stage, the large green truck of their rescuers slowly approached the rendezvous point from the opposite direction, dim headlights weakly penetrating the gloomy forest.

Merlin wracked his brains for a way the mission could still succeed but there was really only one viable option left.

"Arthur, you have to keep going. I'll distract them," Merlin hissed, knowing it was now or never. "Go!"

Merlin gave Arthur a shove down the pathway leading southwards while he headed straight toward the patrol to the north of their hiding spot.

"Merlin no!" he heard Arthur shout behind him. He kept running up the road, possessed by a strength of will he didn't realize he had, an all consuming need to protect Arthur driving him onwards.

It was imperative that he stop the patrol now if there was any chance of Arthur escaping Holland. If the truck's presence and purpose was discovered, many lives would be endangered; Arthur would be thrown into a Prison Camp (if he wasn't shot on site), the suspected resistance fighters would be tortured for information then summarily executed and any contacts whose identities were divulged would then be relentlessly tracked down to suffer the same fate.

Just as he was about to come into view of the Nazi patrol a powerful body slammed into him from behind, the tackle sending them both to the ground with a thump.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Merlin?" Arthur hissed into his ear, before he dragged him off to the side of the road and behind some trees.

Arthur shook his head, aghast at the sacrifice this boy had been about to commit.

"They'd shoot you before you even had a chance to speak Merlin! I won't let you kill yourself on my behalf!" His blue eyes were searching Merlin's intensely.

"Arthur, I have to do this!" Merlin pleaded desperately, voice trembling with anxiety. "There's still time. If I distract them, you could still make it to the rendezvous."

"Not at the cost of your life!" Arthur replied in a harsh whisper, unable to yell at the volume he wished, due to the close vicinity of the German soldiers. "There has to be another way."

Arthur kept his hand clasped tightly around Merlin's narrow wrist to prevent any further attempt and struggle as he might, Merlin could not free himself.

The heavy footsteps of the soldiers mimicked the seconds ticking by and the inevitable meeting seemed more and more likely. Merlin thought he could hear the sounds of the trucks' engine throbbing in the distance as it got closer. If something or someone didn't intervene right now, the only rendezvous it would be having would be a decidedly unwelcome one.

Merlin's panic was building to fever pitch as he strained his eyes to peer into the darkness, a tight squeezing sensation building in his head. A tingling began in his fingers and at first Merlin thought it was because Arthur's former restraint on his left arm had stopped the blood flow. However, it was in both hands and as it spread and strengthened throughout his entire body he felt an undeniable pulsing of energy within himself, smouldering and burning with the need to escape.

Merlin trembled as he tried to hold back and direct this...whatever it was inside himself.

"I can't let this happen Arthur," his voice sounded deep and unrecognizable, even to him.

"Shhhhh." Arthur hissed back, but Merlin did not hear his friend's words. An instinct to protect had taken him over completely and raising his arm instinctively, he propelled all the power he could summon toward the area directly in front of the patrol.

A blinding white flash of light exploded into the trees on the other side of the path followed by the sound of 100 year old trees cracking and groaning as their fibres were damaged beyond salvation and gravity dragged them relentlessly toward the ground.

Arthur ducked reflexly as several fir trees hit the ground noisily and bounced a few times in the snow. Steam hissed upwards around the trees nearby that had been set alight in the beam of energy which mixed with the orange and yellow flames to cast a strange glow into the night air.

The soldiers had fared only slightly better; all of them had been sent flying by differing degrees depending upon their proximity to the blast and now lay still and quiet over the road. Even through the golden haze that had enveloped his vision as he instinctively drew upon his power, Merlin had seen those closest to the impact, propelled up to five metres in the air then thump to the earth like rag dolls.

Arthur cursed vehemently beside him, bringing him back to reality.

"What in god's name was that?" he stared at Merlin like he was some sort of alien. "Did you, did you do that? ...No you couldn't have." He shook his head emphatically whilst backing away in fear, horror etched upon his face.

"Arthur, don't hate me, please don't hate me!" Merlin anguish filed voice cried. "I don't really know what I can do or how it happens but..."

Arthur was still regarding him with a mixture of shock and fear. "You lifted your arm and..." he stammered, pointing accusingly.

"I never meant to hurt anybody, but I had to stop them so you could get away!" Merlin pleaded. The idea of Arthur hating him for being such a bloody freak was physically painful, but not as painful as it would've been to watch him captured by the Nazi's.

"Oh god, they can't be dead. I didn't want to do that." Merlin felt tears fill his eyes as he surveyed the scene in front of him. The flames of the fire lit up the 10 members of the Feldgrau clad patrol, now lying in various crumpled states all around them.

Arthur swore under his breath again before approaching one of the fallen soldiers and pulling off his right mitten. Merlin could see his jaw muscles flexing as he struggled to maintain his composure. Keeping an intense gaze upon Merlin, he knelt down and felt the man's neck for a pulse, before quickly moving on to check another of the fallen.

"They're still alive, probably just concussed," he announced, standing again after checking five or six of them.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut as he absorbed that he wasn't a murderer and his shoulders slumped in relief.

"What now?" Merlin asked weakly, waiting for Arthur's judgement, fully expecting to be condemned with harsh words and rejection.

The Englishmen's eyes fixed on the middle distance while he tried to make sense of what had happened, and then settled back onto Merlin.

Merlin could see the confusion and anger in Arthur's eyes as he exclaimed, "I've seen some bloody weird things during this god forsaken war, but that!"

Arthur squeezed the bridge of his nose, calming his rising panic. He huffed out a breath as he seemed to come to a decision. "Well we can't stay here. Someone's going to wake up sooner or later, hopefully with no clear memory of what happened."

They both heard the truck coming up the road at the same time, heads turning southwards simultaneously. It was still a few minutes away and they couldn't see its headlights yet but that wouldn't be too far away.

"Come on Merlin, let's go," Arthur urged, starting down the road. When all the boy did was stand there looking startled he repeated himself.

Merlin managed a few steps but feeling shocked and dizzy after his outburst, his knees buckled shortly afterwards.

Arthur looked back when he heard his companion fall and returned to drag him to his feet again. As he forced himself onwards, Merlin felt an (ill placed) relief that Arthur had dared to touch him.

"We don't want them to see what's happened here. They might think it's a set up or that the Nazi's are nearby, waiting for them."

Merlin nodded in understanding as he pushed himself forward again. If the resistance saw any sign that the pick up was compromised, they would have no choice but to flee, leaving Arthur behind.

Together they ran toward the arch shaped Memorial stone that was the designated meeting point. A few fortuitous corners in the road would (hopefully) block the view of the damaged area of forest and the unconscious soldiers, from any vehicle arriving there.

Merlin stayed silent as they moved, eyes trained on the snow covered ground. The notion that he had caused what happened back there was still sinking in. The magnitude of power at his fingertips was both terrifying and sickening. There was no way he could deny it to himself now; he had magic.

* * *

Merlin was still panting when the truck pulled up. Arthur limped beside him as he approached the driver's side door. A man with a darker complexion than Gwen's but with the same bright, compassionate eyes looked them up and down before they exchanged the appropriate phrases. He then got out and opened the back of the truck for them, introducing himself as Elyan.

A tall man with curly hair and a close cropped beard was already in the back. He told them his name was Leon and passed them blankets to wrap up in.

"I know you. Merlin isn't it? You were a friend of Will's?" Leon addressed Merlin, studying him in the torch light for a few seconds.

Merlin nodded. "I recognize you from the Draak Bier Huis." Leon partly owned the local tavern, and although it was not a place that Merlin frequented, everyone knew everyone in a town as insulated as his.

"So you're the kid who's been looking after the Englishman?" he asked, sounding surprised and impressed. "Good for you!" he gave Merlin a warm, kind smile.

"This is Lieutenant Arthur P..." Merlin started the introductions but Arthur interrupted.

"Just Arthur will do. Pleased to meet you." He reached out and shook Leon's hand, manners and etiquette learnt since childhood kicking in despite the analogous situation.

"Are you coming with us Merlin?" Leon enquired. "If nobody knows what you're involved in, it's probably better that you go on home."

"Ah, well. I think he'll have to come along actually," Arthur butted in, looking from Merlin to Leon. "Bit of an incident back there." He grimaced, gesturing with his hand back up the road. "We weren't spotted or anything, but we had to, ah, deal with a possible risk." He continued as Leon's face fell in panic.

"Any sign we're being followed?" Leon had pulled back the tarp separating the cabin from the loading area of the truck and was addressing Elyan.

"No, nothing." came a faint reply.

Merlin stared at Arthur as the discussion continued between the two resistance fighters, not quite knowing what to think. Was Arthur covering for him and bringing him along to protect him or was he disgusted by what he'd seen Merlin do and just making sure his own neck was safe? He searched Arthur's face for any sign of hatred or contempt; an upturn of his jaw or a cold, distant look in his pale blue eyes. Either Arthur was very good at hiding his emotions or he wasn't as appalled as Merlin had thought. As soon as they were alone, he'd have to try and find out what Arthur felt. For now, he was still coming to grips with his 'ability' himself.

They continued on driving through the night, bumping and rocking along smaller roads and lane ways. Merlin found the motion oddly relaxing and despite the bone seeping cold, eventually fell into a shallow sleep, only to be shaken awake by particularly severe bumps several times and once when they stopped so that Leon could take over the driving.

"We'll stop just before dawn. There's a safe house we can take shelter in while it's daylight."

Elyan informed them, stretching his back. "So, I heard you met my sister?"

* * *

The safe house turned out to be a small poultry farm, run by an elderly couple named Berkoff. Merlin estimated them to be in their early eighties at least and Mister Berkoff was still surprisingly nimble. Mrs Berkoff however, walked almost bent double, not that it appeared to slow her down at all.

When the truck arrived it was ushered into a large barn and hay bales, sacks of chicken feed and various farm equipment was moved in front of it to hide it from any intruding eyes.

Old Mrs Berkoff ushered everyone inside before cooking them all up the hugest meal of eggs, bread and sausages that Merlin or Arthur had seen in a long time. Merlin tried to help her but she would have none of it, despite the fact that she could barely lift her head above the height of the wood fuel cooker.

The men were shown a small, dingy partitioned area behind a built-in book shelf and instructed to shut themselves into it and to remain completely silent if anyone came by. The Berkoff's supplied the local officer's kitchen's with eggs and other farm produce, so had soldiers calling in practically every day.

Arthur questioned if this wasn't a particularly risky place to hide in, but Elyan said that the same reasons that made it risky also helped to render it above suspicion.

Once it was dark again, the group had another meal then set about preparing for departure. Elyan and Leon had slept for a good part of the day in preparation but Merlin had found it all but impossible to switch off his mind.

By now his mother would be worried sick about his absence and he had no idea how to let her know he was safe. Would he ever be able to go home or would he have to stay away until the allies managed to free all of Holland from German occupation?

The notion of his 'magic' hung over his head like a storm cloud, darkening his thoughts and making him feel trapped in an existence he had no proper understanding of, much less control over.

He longed to know what Arthur thought about him after that fateful display in the forest. He wouldn't be surprised if he hated or even feared him, as Merlin felt both these emotions about himself. As they all got into the truck to resume the journey southwards, the opportunity to find the answers to a number of his questions finally presented itself.

**A/N; It seems as though Arthur has accepted Merlin having magic way too easily I know. But, remember the Arthur of this AU has not been brought up to think magic is evil beyond salvation. Nor has his life and existence been threatened by it time and time again. There may be other reasons that help explain his reaction too, but you will have to keep reading to find that out.**


	14. Chapter 14

Summary of story so far.

Arthur has recovered from his injuries thanks to Gwen's medical assistance. Much to Merlin's horror, he has had an epileptic fit in front of Arthur, which he is sure will cause the Englishmen to pull away from him.  
Merlin's magic is still random and he does not appear to be able to control it.  
Gwen has made the most of her brother's position within the resistance, to organize an escape route for Arthur. As Merlin and Arthur are about to meet the men who will guide them to allied territory, a Nazi patrol comes by and Merlin is forced to react in order to salvage the situation. Inevitably, it involves the use of his magical abilities.

* * *

He was supposed to be asleep and resting up before the night of action ahead, but his mind just wouldn't switch off. The hot bath had helped his muscles relax and left him cleaner and warmer than he'd been for a long time, but still he could not sleep. Tossing and turning restlessly, Arthur glanced across to the pallet where Merlin lay on his side, facing towards the wall. Judging by the quiet, even pattern of breathing coming from the younger man it seemed at least he was getting some much needed sleep.

Even within the darkness of the Berkoff's windowless attic, Arthur could still clearly picture the golden shine of Merlin's eyes the previous evening, precisely as 'lightening' struck the forest adjacent to the Nazi patrol. He replayed the incident over and over in his mind and could reach no other conclusion than that Merlin possessed some sort of magic. The words of dismay Merlin had uttered afterwards suggested he'd only been aware of these abilities for a short time and the look of fear, horror and confusion etched on his face confirmed he was still coming to grips with the discovery.

Arthur had been undeniably shocked and more than a tiny bit scared by what had occurred; it wasn't everyday you were witness to such displays of raw power, wielded using nothing more than an upraised hand, but at no time had he felt his personal safety was threatened. He had experienced numerous occasions in the last three years when his life had been deliberately endangered by combination of man and machine, so he knew exactly what that felt like.

It wasn't just because it was Merlin who had been the perpetrator either, although he certainly could never contemplate that this innocent faced, fragile looking youth who'd become his protector and friend over the last few weeks was remotely possible of committing an evil deed. The distinctive though faint scent, the change in Merlin's eye colour and the ambience in the air accompanying the outburst all carried with them reminders from his past he'd thought he'd managed to suppress.

Arthur's half sister, Morgana, had always been a handful for Uther Pendragon. She refused to submit to his commands and rules, unlike her younger brother, and by her teenage years displayed many signs of outright rebellion.

At five years old, she refused to wear skirts and dresses, demanding she should have the freedom of movement that trousers allowed her male peers.

At twelve she'd refused to attend the Public School Uther had chosen for her as she deemed its choice of subjects demeaning. Why should her education be limited to cooking, etiquette, dancing, flower arranging and other subjects which would apparently prepare her for being a good wife and housekeeper? No, Morgana would be an independent woman and required the same intellectual education as her brother had been given.

Then at sixteen she had been suspended from her school for releasing the rabbits and frogs housed in the laboratory into the extensive grounds of the prestigious school, saving them from pain and torment at the hands of the senior science students.

In Arthur's opinion Uther had been astoundingly, not to mention unfairly, tolerant of Morgana's antic's till then but when she joined a pacifist group and began railing against Uther's beloved Navy two years later, that's when the trouble really started.

The arguments had coincided with Morgana suffering from severe headaches and vivid, terrifying nightmares; so upsetting were these nightmares that the girl's health began to suffer through lack of sleep. Arthur recalls the nights of the school holidays and college breaks when they were both at home again, were she awoke screaming nearly every night. He'd rushed to comfort her on numerous occasions but on one particular night he arrived at Morgana's bedside while she was still in the throes of the bad dream. When he shook her awake, his half sister's eyes had been that same vivid amber hue as Merlin's. In her lingering terror she had fought him, and he remembers the sound of porcelain shattering behind him then turning around to see fragments flying out in every direction before slamming into the floor and table top which the 200 year old vase had rested upon.

Gasping to regain his composure he'd smelt a distinctive tang in the air, not again experienced till last night.

Morgana's horror at what she had done had been even more abject than Merlin's. Not fully comprehending what had happened and not knowing what to say to appease his sister's guilt, Arthur had never felt more useless in his life.

Both Pendragon offspring knew it would be a disaster if their father ever found out about what was happening to Morgana; especially after his sister confided in him that that wasn't the first time something like that had occurred. As the young lady slipped further and further into her own well of self disgust and fear, Arthur dragged her to the person that had been most like a mother to him and the person instinct told him would be best able to help.

When Arthur's mother died shortly after his birth, Alice had been employed as a nanny. She'd given him as much love and guidance as she'd been permitted to in her contract of employment and had meant much more to him even now than an ex-employee should. Alice had also been Morgana's nanny since she came to live with them aged four.

Alice had been retired for over two years when Arthur and Morgana went to her with their secret but she still held the same calmness and authority she had fifteen years ago.

Although he hadn't been privy to the actual discussions between Morgana and Alice, the improvement in his half sister's health and overall mental state made it obvious that the older lady had been exactly what Morgana needed.

Feeling immensely relieved, Arthur had pushed the memories aside and had gotten on with his life. He had never discussed his sister's abilities with her and even though he knew it was impossible for him not to love and care for her just as deeply as he had before, despite whatever had befallen her, it was just easier to pretend nothing weird had ever happened.

The sound of voices downstairs brought a halt to Arthur's reminiscing. He sighed heavily which somehow turned itself into a yawn as his exhaustion grew. His last thought before sleep finally came was that he needed to talk to Merlin about the 'magic'. Unfortunately there was nobody like Alice here for the lad to confide in, but he be dammed if he'd let Merlin experience the alienation and self directed horror that he'd watched Morgana go through.

* * *

Elyan climbed into the cab to check the fuel levels while Leon got in the back with Merlin and Arthur. As there would be no petrol available till a long way further down the line, a top up of the petrol tank was necessitated. Arthur offered to assist Elyan ferry the containers of fuel over from the shed so they could then be emptied into the petrol tank.

"Your mother will be worried about you won't she?" Leon started as him and Merlin remained in the rear of the truck. Merlin looked up wistfully from where he'd been examining his boots, face pale and eyes wide with distress.

"I'm heading back home after we reach the first stop tonight. You could come with me." Leon continued. The plan was to drive for a further two hours - or thereabouts - until they reached the next cross over point, at which time different people would accompany the escapees.

Merlin ran the idea through his head. Hunith would be beside herself by now, and the notion that her pain was entirely his fault, hurt him deeply. He imagined himself returning home, running through the front door and the tears they'd both shed as they were reunited. He closed his eyes briefly, longing to feel the safety and stability that only being in your own home could bring.

"I'm not sure. I don't think I can leave Arthur." He heard himself reply.

"What? Don't you trust me then?" Arthur's head had appeared around the corner, lip curled into a half smile as he spoke with a light heartedness that was completely incongruous with the situation.

"Honestly Merlin," Arthur huffed, eyes meeting in the darkness before he hauled himself into the truck and settled down as comfortably as he could beside him.

Leon tapped Merlin's knee as he climbed out of the truck and headed for the cab. "Well, think about it while we drive okay?"

Merlin nodded back at him, mouth quirking into a forced smile.

The engine roared into life again and they rumbled along for a few minutes before Arthur spoke again.

"Merlin, you can go back if you want. You've done enough. More than enough." The last thing he wanted was to come between Merlin and his mother.

Merlin's dropped his gaze for a second, and then he looked back at his friend.

"I've just got this feeling I should go with you," he replied quietly. "I can't really explain it, but..."

Arthur nodded. "Okay." He surprised himself when he realized that he shared Merlin's opinion. Somehow, the two had developed a bond over the last few weeks; the hardships both men had endured, forging a friendship that never of them had imagined possible.

The truck continued on through the night, engine rumbling and gears squeaking. Arthur was trying to work out how to bring up the subject of Merlin's 'special skill' when the person in question spoke first.

"Arthur. That...'thing' that happened back in the woods? I'm sorry you had to see it like that." Merlin started haltingly, refusing to meet Arthur's gaze. "I mean, I know it was weird and I don't want you to hate me, but. Well, I'd understand if you did."

Merlin shuffled around awkwardly where he sat for a moment before carrying on.

"What I don't understand is why you told Leon I couldn't go back home after they picked us up. You would never have had to see me again." Or think of my magic.

Arthur had watched Merlin closely while he spoke and continued to regard him in silence for another minute or so while he organized his thoughts.

"Merlin, I don't ...I can't say I really understand what you did back there, but I am sure I don't hate you because of it." Arthur began earnestly.

Merlin looked over at him, hope written across his face. After all, Arthur had seen him have a fit and wasn't repulsed by that.

Arthur breathed one deep breath. "The thing is Merlin; I've seen something a bit like that before. Morgana - I've mentioned her haven't I?" Merlin nodded, remembering the names Arthur spoke of during his fever addled dreams. "Well, she..." Arthur lifted his brows. "I only saw it the once, but I know it happened more often. Just like you, her eyes glowed gold and then she," he waved a hand around in the air demonstratively, "did stuff. Made things move or explode or ignite into flames and such."

Merlin stared at the man beside him in amazement. Could this be true? Were there other people out there like him? A thousand questions ran through his mind but all that came out was, "Your sister?"

"Mmmm, half sister actually. The point is Merlin, I cannot ... I will not judge you for having magic." He wanted to add that he shouldn't judge himself either, that he'd seen what the knowledge of being different had done to Morgana and he couldn't stand for Merlin to go through the same, but he'd never been any good at all that touchy feely stuff. Instead he settled on a physical message of camaraderie used widely among his fellow RAF members and punched the boy in the upper arm.

Merlin, not versed in this masculine display of friendship looked at Arthur sheepishly.

"What was that for?" he asked innocently, feeling a little hurt.

"That's what I always do to my men," Arthur answered confused and affronted by Merlin's reaction. "It means we're in this together!" he continued.

"Oh." Merlin nodded, smiling so widely that little crinkled occurred around his eyes.

* * *

By the time they reached the change over point the moon had risen and was casting its silvery light down upon the dilapidated shed and waiting vehicle. Once again they'd kept to the quieter, smaller roads enabling them to travel along unnoticed. The snow and ice on the roads hadn't been a problem for the deep treads of the truck tyres, its ability to traverse pretty much any terrain more than compensating for its size and lack of manoeuvrability.

"Wait here while I check things out." Elyan ordered them as he pulled up some 50 metres from the scene.

Merlin pulled up the tarpaulin cover beside him and peered out. They were in open farmland again although he could see the dark shadows of a forest off in the distance. His breath fogged up the freezing air in front of him as he took a last look then retreated back into the truck. Even the flimsy cover it offered helped retain some warmth, compared to outside.

In the cab of the truck Leon turned around and leant over the front seats.

"This is where we part ways. It's your last chance to come back with me Merlin." He offered again.

"No. Thanks anyway." Merlin answered, looking up at him.

"Thanks for everything Leon." Arthur reached out and shook the Dutchman's hand, "You've risked so much to get me out and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Leon smiled, "We might not be in the armed services, but it's our way of fighting the enemy."

Leon squinted over at Elyan and the men he was speaking to as they started to make their way over to the truck.

"Merlin, you might want to take a look at who's out there. I think it's somebody you'll be happy to see." He stated with an enigmatic air.

**A/N: I hope i didn't go overoard with the bromantic fluff. Can anyone guess who Leon is talking about at the end?  
I took a bit longer than I had hoped to update. No excuses really, but I have been wasting a bit of time looking at all the photos from the latest round of filming for Series 5. Some amazing shots are around.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N; Please excuse the liberal use of creative licence regarding the amount of time it takes to get from Merlin's village down to the southern area of Holland.  
I have tried to stick to fact regarding the historical details of WW2 but apologise in advance for errors.  
Well done Alligates, with your idea of who Merlin is about to be reunited with!  
**

_"Merlin, you might want to take a look at who's out there. I think it's somebody you'll be happy to see." He stated with an enigmatic air._

* * *

Merlin gave Leon a mystified glance, and then climbed out the back of the truck, Arthur following close behind. Staring into the darkness he struggled valiantly to make out the two men accompanying Elyan.

A slightly built man walked on Elyan's right, his easy movement typical of somebody quite young whilst the man on Elyan's other side walked with the slower, more laboured gait of an older person. His girth was slightly wider than Elyan's and his spectacles and silver hair reflected the moonlight as he moved.

"It can't be?" Merlin uttered to himself, squinting desperately into the night.

Suddenly sure of himself, Merlin took off at a run towards the trio and with a distance of only about 7 meters between them; he could control his happiness no longer.

"Gaius!" he cried, face breaking into a huge grin as he covered the last few metres.

"Merlin!" the old man replied arms outstretched as Merlin virtually jumped into his embrace.

"Gaius, it really is you. I wasn't even sure you were alive!" Merlin spoke raggedly, barely able to contain his tears as he gripped onto his Great Uncle as tightly as possible.

"My boy," Gaius replied rubbing his young relative's back.

After a few moments Merlin stood back, but Gaius kept hold of his upper arms. "Let me look at you. How I've missed you and your mother."

Merlin nodded, still smiling like a child on Christmas Day and his eyes moist with tears of joy.

"We got a letter. It said you were missing."

"Calm down Merlin, I'm fine. I know how to look after myself. Now," he released his grand nephew, looking him up and down, "What's this I hear about you hiding an English pilot?"

Arthur did his best to give the pair a semblance of privacy for a few minutes, turning to speak to Elyan who filled him in on Gaius' relationship to Merlin and what he'd been up to in the last few years.

One of the first things Gaius did when he'd officially joined the resistance had been to help Dutch Jews evade German capture. There were many Jews living in Holland so they made an easy target for the Nazi's and as their fate at the so called 'work camps' became clear, Gaius had thrown himself into getting as many out of the country as possible.

A year or so later, Gaius found himself based in Paris writing, printing and distributing illegal information to counter Nazi propaganda. Throughout that time he'd also employed his medical expertise wherever it was needed; whether it be injured Allied soldiers caught behind enemy lines, injured Resistance members or sick and malnourished Jews who were hiding out the war in someone's cramped, dark attic or basement.

Recently though, Gaius had learned of the famine and horror occurring in Holland and knew he had to come home to help his own people. The conditions he'd witnessed in the cities had been especially appalling. Young children with arms and legs as thin as sticks, babies screaming for milk that their underfed mother's could not give them, youths fighting over the merest portion of food.

Gaius' disgust and sadness at the atrocities of war flared anew and a tiredness of all his seventy odd years weighed him down. All he wanted was to see his family; to hold them close and see out what remained of this hellish time surrounded by the people he held most dear.

"Gaius, something's happening to me." Merlin hissed as he steered them away from the others.

"Clearly. Sounds like you're taking after your old Great Uncle. Your mother must be beside herself." Gaius assumed Merlin was talking about his recent involvement in resistance-like activities.

"No, you don't understand," Merlin shook his head, meeting Gaius' confused gaze with desperation. "I keep...doing things. Strange things that I can't explain."

The two had stopped moving by this stage and Gaius had an eyebrow raised in worry as he took in the distress and need written on Merlin's face.

"I think...I think I have magic." Merlin confessed quietly.

* * *

"Leon, is there any way you could deliver a message to Merlin's mother, just to let her know he's safe?" Arthur asked the tall Dutchman as he wheeled an old battered motorcycle out of the shed where it had been concealed. "It's my fault he's involved in all this, and I know he's worried about her."

Leon nodded back at him. "Elyan and I spoke about that. I don't risk meeting her face to face, but I'll get word to her, somehow."

Arthur smiled in relief. "Thanks Leon."

Leon pulled a large set of protective goggles on and started the bike's engine.

"Good luck!" he called before he took off into the night air, exhaust chugging in the freezing air. He'd have a bloody cold trip ahead of him but Arthur guessed the thought of getting home again would be enough to motivate him throughout the long, lonely night.

Arthur watched him retreat into the distance before turning back. Merlin and Gaius were still deeply engaged in conversation. It must have been quite an emotional talk too, given the way Gaius kept putting his arm around Merlin's shoulder or rubbing his back.

"Arthur."

"Arthur!" Elyan repeated himself, finding it a little difficult to draw the man's attention away from where Merlin and Gaius were engaged in conversation. "This is Gilli. He may look young and inexperienced but he knows what he's doing. Along with Gaius," he gestured towards the silver haired man behind them, "You're in good hands."

Arthur swallowed soberly. "So, what's next?"

By this stage in the war, France and Belgium had been liberated and in September 1944, so too were the very southern parts of Holland during a military initiative known as Operation Market Garden. The overall aim of the operation had been to open up a route deep into the heart of the enemy which didn't involve having to break through the tight line of German defence known as the Siegfried Line. The territory claimed back would have enabled the allied forces to head northwards out of France, cross over the Rhine, Waal and Maas rivers inside Holland then turn a sharp left into the lowlands of Germany. Unfortunately it hadn't been as successful as it was hoped and Arnhem, which sat upon the Rhine, remained under Axis control, thus halting any further incursion.

"We're another three to four hours drive from the Rhine-Waal Delta." Gilli began. Arthur noted his use of perfect English and quiet determined tone. "We'll keep going tonight, and then stop with another operative before dawn."

"And once we're there?"

"Our intelligence has located a ferry that crosses the river just outside of Nijmegen that appears to offer the best chance for escape." Elyan added.

Arthur inhaled deeply, taking in their words.

"We've got someone on the inside at the ferry terminus." Gilli added, looking to Elyan for confirmation. "We have to be ready for the 3pm crossing so there's no point getting there much before then."

Arthur nodded, "Why 3pm? There must be multiple crossings during the day?"

"There's a change of guard scheduled, so it gives us a very small window when the coast will be clear."

"Okay." Arthur answered, brows furrowed in thought. "I'm ready when you are."

"We'll get going again once those two have finished catching up." Gilli tilted his head toward Gaius and his nephew.

* * *

"I did wonder if it would ever manifest." Gaius replied to Merlin thoughtfully, after listening attentively to his words.

Merlin stared back incredulously, "What do you mean? Tell me what you know Gaius?"

"I probably should have spoken to you before I left but... Well I thought your epilepsy was how the condition manifested itself within you."

Merlin stared at him dumbfounded. "Condition?" he repeated.

"Let me explain Merlin. Every two or three generations, a person in our family line seems to possess the ability to perform 'magic', as you call it. It varies in its intensity and there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to who it shows up in."

"Why didn't you tell me before Gaius? I thought I was insane." Merlin cried, trying to quell the hurt and betrayal in his voice.

"Merlin, calm down," Gaius put an arm around his grand nephew and guided him to a place where they could sit. "If I thought that you were ever going to show signs, I would've told you. Once you'd reached your thirteenth birthday and there had still been no indications, your mother and I concluded that it must've skipped another generation. Or perhaps because of your condition it wasn't possible."

Merlin's eyes were closed and he kept his head down so that Gaius couldn't see his tears. "I wish you'd been there Gaius, I needed you," he uttered, volume only just above a whisper.

"I'm sorry my boy. I'm here now." Gaius held onto the young man as close as he could, guilt flooding through him. The old man sighed wearily, vowing to make up for lost time. Not that he regretted all he'd achieved in the last four, nearly five years; countless lives had been saved because of his actions. If only the needs of his own flesh and blood hadn't been abandoned so in the mean time.

After a few minutes Merlin pulled himself free, wiping his face with a mittened hand.

"Now, tell me about your pilot. I heard you've been quite the hero." Gaius smiled, nudging Merlin' shoulder with his own.

"Arthur, Lieutenant Arthur Pendragon. He's been hiding in the old collapsed mine shaft in Degalaar Woods."

Merlin proceeded to tell Gaius all that he'd been through since him and Will witnessed the Spitfire come down, including Will being killed and Gwen's involvement.

"You've made an old man very proud Merlin." Gaius remarked, receiving a bright, hopeful smile in return.

Gaius could see Elyan and Gilli looking restless as they stood nearer the car. "Come on, I think they're waiting for us," he stood up slowly and beckoned to Merlin, "Time to go I'd say."

They bid farewell to Elyan who set off on foot to Nijmegen where he'd prepare himself for his next engagement, then got into the car. It was considerably warmer than the truck had been and quieter. It wasn't long before the relaxing warmth, the hum of cars engine and its gentle rocking motion along the roads had lulled both Merlin and Arthur into much needed sleep.

The abrupt halt of the vehicle jolted them both awake some three and a half hours later. Merlin peered out the window blearily. The spire of a small church loomed above them, backlit by the waning moon. A leafless tree stood nearby, its bare branches pointing upwards into the starry sky like lonely, sad sentinels.

"We're here boys," Gaius announced towards the passengers in the back seat.

"A church?" Merlin asked, still fighting for clarity in his half wakened state.

A rotund figure bearing a weak torch ambled toward the car. He was wearing a long dark coat and had receding grey hair.

"This is Reverend Klaas." Gilli introduced the middle aged man.

"Hello gentlemen. Come inside." He ushered them through a small barren yard along the side of the red brick building, then in through a small door toward the back into a messy, unkempt looking kitchenette and lounge area.

"I know it's not much now. But you should've seen it before the war broke out." Reverend Klaas spoke apologetically. Like most of war torn Europe, upkeep and maintenance duties had been put aside for more essential needs. The brickwork on the exterior of the Dutch Reformed Church had become chipped and grotty, the low picket fence and garden beds had long been forgotten and his private rooms were in need of a drastic overhaul. His once proud church now looked saggy, tired and dirty, both inside and out.

"Still, I must be thankful for what I've got." Klaas smiled ruefully, thinking of cities like Rotterdam, Arnhem and Brussels which had been bombed or sustained serious heavy artillery damage.

The hissing and spitting of a fire in a blackened hearth drew the men towards it with a promise of warmth. The Reverend put a kettle on to boil then tried to clear more seating space to accommodate his 'guests'.

"Before we settle in you better show me where to hide the car Klaas." Gilli asked, rising to brave the cold outside again.

"Right. You three take your coats off and make yourself at home." Klaas said. "We'll be back shortly." The two men then proceeded back outside, leaving Merlin, Arthur and Gaius alone.

Merlin stared into the flames, thinking about everything Gaius had told him earlier. It seemed as if the coming of his supernatural ability had been pretty much inevitable. He'd known since he was a young child that he wasn't like everybody else and he realized even back then, that he was destined for a life of isolation. At the time he'd put it all down to his medical state and the fact that he had no father but now he understood there had been more to it.

As he looked around at the two people sitting with him, he felt a comforting wave of belonging sweep through him; both men knew of his abilities and neither thought any the less of him for it. Their acceptance of him made him feel happy in so many ways he couldn't even begin to describe them.

Furthermore, now he had Gaius back in his life again, he felt confident that with his guidance he'd be able to get his magic under some sort of control and if he could achieve that, he could take on anything.

Arthur seemed quiet and pensive beside him and Merlin wanted to impart some of this new flush of confidence to his friend.

"Not long now," he commented, nudging Arthur's leg with his own then catching his gaze. "It's going to work out Arthur, I know it is."

**A/N: Yay for Positive!Merlin. But is he getting ahead of himself?**


	16. Chapter 16

Arthur was nervous. All this waiting around was doing his head in. He took deep breaths, trying to compose himself before the others noticed his fear. He was an RAF Lieutenant for god's sake, not a silly schoolgirl! Even Merlin, little more than a boy, a civilian who had no experience of combat and had probably barely even left his village before, looked to be coping better than him.

Gilli and Gaius had everything planned out so there was nothing left for him to do, nothing to keep his mind from swirling with the myriad of ways the escape plan could go wrong. Just over an hour ago the Reverend Klaas had headed into the village on errands, leaving his four visitors with a few hours to spare before they had to set off for the ferry. Arthur had paced the floor for over an hour already, until Merlin finally convinced him to sit still.

Watching Gaius and Merlin chatting and laughing together on the other side of the room, Arthur felt a stab of envy. Chastising himself for his pettiness he closed his eyes and prayed silently that his father and he would soon be able to interact in a similar manner. Even if they did not share a demonstrative affection, he knew his father cared for him deeply and vice versa. Being so close to death and made him truly aware of how much he valued his friends and family, even his crotchety old father. When he made it home, he vowed first and foremost that he'd let his father know exactly how much he loved him, but also that he was no longer willing to live his life according to Pendragon senior's demands and values. There were so many things more important than wealth, status and social position and he was determined to honour this new found knowledge.

Continuing to observe Merlin, he was once again struck by the remarkable dedication and courage the boy had shown him; a complete stranger. Expressing his deepest emotions had never come naturally to Arthur, but he hoped he could let Merlin know just how thankful he was before the time came for them to separate.

Arthur squeezed the bridge of his nose and declared silently that all this tension must be making him soft.

"It's almost time to go Arthur."

Arthur sat on a bench beside the fireplace and was staring into the flames. Merlin had approached without him being aware of it so the sound of a voice in his ear startled him somewhat.

"We don't want to miss that ferry." Merlin added as Arthur looked up toward him.

"Right. Before we go, I need to talk to you for a minute."

Merlin sat down next to his friend. He could see the muscles in Arthur's cheeks flex in anxiety and his eyes regarded him with an intensity he'd not seen before.

"Merlin, you're not intending to cross the river with me I hope?" Arthur hadn't meant for his words to sound so harsh and he winced internally at the hurt look on Merlin's face. "I mean, you've done enough. You should go on home ... With your Uncle."

Merlin glanced at the floor, trying to hide any sign that might betray how rejected he felt.

"I thought..." Merlin looked at Arthur again, cerulean blue eyes meeting cool blue eyes as he drew upon his resolve to see this thing through till the end. "I need to make sure you get away." Noticing the worry etched in Arthur's face, he pasted on a fake grin and added, "I can sneak back after, don't worry,"

"Well yes. I appreciate that." Arthur stammered, wondering if there was an end point to this boy's loyalty. "But, I'd rather you stayed."

"Oh."

Arthur could almost see the spark leave Merlin's eyes as his face dropped and his shoulders slumped.

"Merlin, you need to be with Gaius so he can help you come to grips with your magic. You told me yourself that you're confused and scared." Arthur put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You have to accept what you are Merlin, and to do that you need to understand what's going on."

Images of Morgana; his once proud and noble sister, drowning in her own fear and self hatred, flashed across his mind.

"What I'm trying to say is that you need to put yourself first now. You're at a difficult stage and you need all the help you can get. From what I've seen, Gaius is the best one to do so."

Merlin remainder quiet before finally answering. "I understand."

Arthur couldn't tell how his friend was reacting as he had turned away from him and he feared his words weren't conveying exactly what he wanted them to. The thought of leaving with Merlin thinking he'd rejected him was unbearable.

Merlin stood to leave but before he took a step away Arthur shot out a hand and grabbed his sleeve.

"Merlin," he began. "Before we go, I want to thank you for everything you've done."

Merlin slowly turned back to face him again and their eyes met.

"I mean it Merlin. If you hadn't... I mean," Arthur paused and exhaled loudly. "I'm not good at this sort of thing but what I'm trying to say is that I will never forget what you've done for me. I owe you my life Merlin."

Merlin shook his head, a grin starting on his face. "You don't owe me anything Arthur."

Raising his eyebrows briefly in disagreement, the Englishman continued, "After liberation, I'll come back and see you. I think my father will probably want to thank you too." Money or a job on his estate were Uther's usual ways of showing gratitude and he doubted that Merlin would ever leave his mother or Gaius, even if could be arranged.

"Really? You'd come back. Just to see me?" Merlin replied his face lighting up with joy.

Arthur nodded, one side of his mouth raised to form a half smile.

"Time to go boys." Gaius' sombre voice interrupted the exchange.

* * *

Gilli had left them some fifteen minutes ago on his mission to distract the two soldiers who were on their way to take over guard duties at the pier for evening. He'd refused to go into much detail about what he planned, but the surreptitious wink he'd given Gaius as he fled together with the fact that he carried no supplies with him, really got Merlin wondering.

Merlin, Arthur and Gaius were concealed 50 metres up the riverbank from the docking site, within a thicket of trees. They had an excellent view of the pier, ferry and the two soldiers guarding the vessel, as their position was elevated a few metres above the level of the water. A sparse forest covered this side of the river preventing a great deal of visibility behind them but providing good cover.

A thin layer of snow covered the trees and bushes, which rapidly turned to icy water as the men brushed up against it nervously, waiting for the very small window of opportunity in which they'd make their move. The snow carpeting the ground, right down to a metre or so from the shoreline, added to their discomfort. Their trousers were wet through within a matter of minutes of them crouching down; the cold, slushy moisture digging its icy fingers into their legs and knees.

Down at the pier, the ferry was docked and the soldiers chatted to the ferryman who had come to stand at the loading end of his craft. The ferry itself was a small wooden vessel that looked as though it had seen better days. Its driver was a middle aged man who wore a dark blue cap pulled low over his eyes and a long yellow coat and rubber boots. There were no other passengers aboard but some crates were stacked up on the deck and a skinny, miserable looking dog was tethered to the wheelhouse.

The river was at least 100m wide and its blue, choppy waters looked ominously dark and foreboding in the cloudy, snow laden sky. The waterway before them actually began life in the Swiss Alps, some 1000km away before traversing the western part of Germany where it was known as the Rhine. After crossing into Holland it split up into three distributaries; the one lying before them now is called the River Waal.

The next scheduled crossing of the ferry would be at 3.15pm and it was this departure that Arthur was hoping would take him to freedom.

Upon hearing the bells from the distant town chime for 3pm, the two guards presently in position started scanning the pathway, looking out eagerly for their replacements. They'd been standing in the near zero temperatures for hours now; their toes were numb from the cold and their faces ached in the constant icy breeze that came in off the river. The taller soldier walked a little way up the hill, so he could see further along the path.

By five past the hour the guard's irritation had clearly heightened. Both men had crept toward the brow of the river valley, and their frustrated tones of complaint could be heard by the three hidden men. The second soldier pulled his helmet off angrily and ran his hand through his hair, kicking into the muddy ground petulantly at the same time.

At 3.10pm the taller guard threw down his cigarette and gestured to his partner that he'd had enough. The allure of a nice warn tearoom where they could put their feet up for a few hours and catch up on the latest gossip with the lads, finally got too much for them and off they stalked, cursing about the laziness of Hoffman and Voight and how they'd teach them a lesson.

The second the soldiers were out of visual range, Arthur and Merlin left the safety of the trees and made for the ferry. It was due to leave any minute now and the timing was crucial. They needed to get on board before the soldiers were in position again, but not too long before scheduled departure so as not to provide too much scope for suspicion.

Gaius watched on anxiously as they ran through the sludgy snow, slipping and sliding down the river bank. Arthur's ankle was still troubling him and it took all his resolve to stay within a few metres of Merlin.

They were almost halfway to the pier when they heard Gaius' warning shout from above.

"Merlin! There are soldiers coming!"

Unbeknown to Gaius at the time, Gilli's plan had gone awry at the last minute and the German's had seen his distraction for what it was. As soon as they realised the ferry had been left unguarded, six soldiers were ordered to attend the site on the double and to be on alert for escapees.

As Gaius sounded his alert, Merlin and Arthur were stuck out in the open, halfway between the cover of the trees and their destination. Merlin skidded to a halt, frantically trying to decide what to do next.

"Keep going Arthur, I'll hold them off." He ordered as Arthur grew level with them.

"But what about you?" Arthur anxiously retorted.

"Go Arthur! Now!" he shoved his friend toward the boat where the ferryman was slowly swinging shut the gates of the vessel.

Arthur took off, biting back the pain in his ankle as he ran. The sound of soldier's boots clomping down the pathway, orders being delivered in German and the ominous noise of rifles being drawn reached him and he tried to look backwards as he continued to run.

Merlin stayed where he was and although he was a clear target for the soldiers, he wasn't scared. In fact, he felt distinctly calm; he knew what he had to do and Gaius had assured him he possessed both the power and the ability to do so. What's more, he now believed in himself too.

Closing his eyes, he searched inside for the golden tingling that signified his magic. Time seemed to slow down around him as he felt the power begin to build. It coiled and burned within him, becoming more and more difficult to hold back. Merlin raised his right arm in the direction of the soldiers and when he opened his eyes they flashed gold. A millisecond later a blast of energy flew out of his hand and using instinct only, he sent it straight into the middle of the pursuing men.

Meanwhile, Arthur had turned again, desperate to see what was happening. He had time to glimpse a bright golden light at Merlin's upraised hand then soldiers were being thrown through the air like dry leaves on a windy day.

Limp bodies hit the ground, many metres from where they'd stood, helmets and rifles thumping to the ground in their wake. Stillness descended the area; Arthur had stopped and was staring open mouthed, Gaius was looking on with wide eyes. Merlin surveyed his handiwork, breathing deeply and leaning forward with arms braced on his knees. A jolt of triumph coursed through his veins and he allowed himself a minute smile.

It was a shout from Gaius again that alerted him that all was not right. On board the ferry, the driver, witnessing the odd exchange, had retrieved a weapon and was at this moment setting Merlin in his sites, his finger already on the trigger.

The young magic user turned and saw what Gaius was yelling about and pointing at. He watched dumbfounded as the bullet came towards him; a silvery fragment travelling through the air, headed straight at his heart.

"Scildan mín léodmæg!"

Merlin stared in shock as the bullet suddenly stopped, held back by a glittery, pulsating shield of pale gold which had appeared just in front of him. He blinked a few times before his brain could make sense of what happened.

Gaius. It had to be Gaius.

The bullet dropped uselessly to the ground as Gaius collapsed the shield, slumping with relief shortly afterwards. It had been some years since he'd had to call upon his own magical skills and he wasn't sure he'd be able to repeat the spell if he tried.

Before the ferryman could do anything else, Merlin stood tall and summoned his instinctive magic again, casting the weapon into the dark blue waters of the Waal with a flick of his wrist, a gold spark briefly igniting his eyes.

Arthur had reached the ferry by now and was practically face to face with the driver. The two stared at each other in a kind of stalemate until Merlin's voice sounded from just behind Arthur's shoulder.

"You've got one chance. You must vow not to speak of what's happened here and leave, now!"

Arthur turned around, not recognising the Merlin who spoke with such a commanding and powerful tone. His voice was deeper and seemed to resonate with strength. He even looked bigger; standing with a straight back and holding his chin up defiantly.

The ferryman nodded quickly, eyes never leaving Merlin's as he opened the rear gates of his vessel with shaky hands and ran up the shoreline and disappeared into the trees.

The fear evident in the man's face as he fled, suddenly touched something within Merlin and when he saw the way Arthur was watching him; like he was something to be careful of, he suddenly hated himself. He'd never wanted to use his magic for harming people, but there hadn't been a choice.

"Arthur. You understand don't you? I'm not a monster. But I had to stop them." Merlin cried, his face twisted in anguish and self doubt.

"I know Merlin. I know. Calm down." Arthur replied, putting a strong hand on his shoulder to emphasise his words. "Besides, I expect the soldiers are just unconscious, like before aren't they?"

Merlin nodded, blinking tears away, "Yeah."

"You could never be anything evil Merlin." Arthur added, barely above a whisper. He'd seen cruelty and vileness before and knew in his heart that this selfless, generous young man could never be any such thing. He glanced at the ground briefly before continuing, "Well, who's going to drive this thing, now you've got rid of the ferryman?"

"Who do you think?" Merlin asked with a cheeky grin, his equilibrium re-established.

Arthur reached out to shake Merlin's hand, "I guess its goodbye then."

Merlin grasped the hand offered him, and then before he knew it Arthur had pulled him in close and wrapped his free arm around Merlin's back.

"I'll never forget this Merlin," Arthur spoke, his mouth so close to Merlin's ear that he could feel the breath ghosting over his neck.

Just as suddenly, Arthur pulled free and turned, walking onto the ferry and going to stand near the skinny dog, deliberately not looking Merlin's way. The young magic user raised his arm and imagined the ferry moving across the water, his eyes turning golden as it started its journey to freedom.

"Good bye Arthur," he whispered.

**A/N: I wasn't sure how the person in charge of the ferry should be referred to but I think 'driver' is correct.  
The spell translates to something like 'shield for my relative'. I hope my descriptions of Merlin doing his magic were ok. It was really hard to make it sound suitably dramatic and realistic. (Silly choice of word, but you know what I mean.)  
I know Arthur is a bit OOC here, but I guess this is how I WANT him to be – understanding and accepting of Merlin's magic. Let's hope we finally get to see this in Series 5!  
I love the scene in "The Coming of Arthur" Part Two, where Merlin and Gaius act together to defeat Morgause and Morgana, so I really wanted to do a similar thing in my story.  
This is the last chapter of the story but I don't want to leave Merlin and Gaius so far from home so I fully intend to add an Epilogue. Also we need to know what happens back in England when Arthur gets home; will he be more understanding of his half sister? Will he marry Elena?**

**Please leave a review if you could. Thanks for reading !**


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